Thicker than Water
by Toriga-Okami
Summary: Drabbles - the latest: Punch and Thrust. An indepth analysis of a time-proven technique.
1. Reflections

A/N: Alright... So... I normally write for final fantasy 7... And if I do venture into the world of final fantasy 8 I nearly only read Squall and Rinoa fics. But I started reading some Seifer and Quistis stuff and I must admit it's very good material to read :) Anyway I thought I would give it a shot so please excuse anything which isn't exactly... fitting... I've never played the game so I have no idea what I got right or wrong lol xD you could consider this to be an AU fic if it bothers you _that_ much lol xD

Anyway, please read it and tell me what you think of my first time trying to write for FFVIII :D

* * *

"You! I hate _you_!"

The words were screamed at him across the table, seconds before the tears started falling and she ran from the room. He blinked, taking a drag from his cigarette and propping his feet on the table. He wasn't going to be moved by her insecure show of emotion, even as he listened to her footsteps disappearing down the hall and through the front door. If she didn't come home tonight, it might give her chance to rethink her opinion of him.

She didn't hate him, they'd just had a fight. The usual tale of him being obnoxious and her being sick and tired of defending his actions when she received no better from him than anyone else. If he was entirely honest, he just didn't think about his actions or what he said. He'd spent so long not having anyone to please that being nasty and being unfeeling were as common to him as breathing. Both of which he did regularly.

He drew the cigarette from his lips and looked at it. He really should quit, they were killing him and they made his fingers yellow and his clothes smell bad. Quistis hated his smoking, along with all his other 'disgusting habits', such as putting his feet on the table and talking with his mouth full.

His gaze travelled down to where his feet were resting on a pile of her neatly stacked test sheets, now sporting nice muddy half-moons from the backs of his boot heels. He considered leaving his feet there out of spite, but then decided to move them. Quistis would forgive him after a while if he ruined the sheets, but the guilt would stick with him for longer, knowing he did it _out of spite_.

He returned the cigarette to his lips and took another drag, wondering why he was suddenly such a softy for this girl. Once upon a time he would do his utmost to annoy and irritate her, but now he did it without thinking. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to make her hate him anymore either, it just came naturally. Once upon a time she would have just brushed him off and waltzed away like she hadn't a care in the world. But now... Now it was as if she'd left herself so open to him that she'd forgotten how to act aloof and disconnected.

Stubbing out the wasted end, he picked up the papers and took them to the kitchen counter, wondering what would be the best way to get rid of the dirt. He wasn't stupid enough to try washing it off, but besides a damp cloth and maybe a paper press he really had no idea how to clean them. But then again, it was only one sheet. Did he really have to? Couldn't he just... put it to the bottom of the pile and pretend it wasn't him?

He sighed as he thought of her reaction when she found it. She'd pick it up and hold it out to show him what she'd found, a look on her face that clearly stated she _knew_ how it got there. He didn't need any words to know she wasn't impressed and she would be irritable and unfriendly the rest of the day. And there was going to be no way he could tell her he didn't mean to because... Well, he did it _every time_. And every time she would turn blue eyes on him and look disappointed. So lately, he had stopped apologising all together.

He knew it hurt her, he'd seen it in her eyes, when she'd expected an apology and he'd just shrugged. He could see the shock run through her and watched it slowly turn to acceptance as slowly she'd stopped expecting an apology.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving the papers on the surface and turning to lean against the counter, his hand digging in his pocket for another cig. He pulled out the box and tapped one out, placing it in his mouth as he sought for his lighter. The smoke swirled in the room with him as he lit up, breathing deeply and feeling the choking sensation rush through his lungs. It didn't matter how many of these things he had, the deeper the breath the more he felt he couldn't breathe.

There were only two things in this world that stopped him breathing; smoking and Quistis. Irritability and insecurities aside, she was one _hot_ babe. Or more to the point, she was _his_ hot babe. It had taken him a while to realise what he wanted was really her, and after a whole 6 months of scaring away competition, coincidental meetings and one rainy night stuck in the middle of nowhere with nobody but her, he had got what he wanted. Along with a runny nose and the mother of all headaches the following morning. And the best part of it all was, she was suffering the exact same ailments as himself.

So why, if all he really wanted was her, was he leaning against her kitchen counter, indulging in a habit he _knew_ she hated, after being so insufferably mean to her? Well he sure as hell didn't know and he was damned if he was going to find out any time soon. He stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, then walked over to the window to let out the smoke.

He was about to turn back to the couch and watch some telle when he heard her crying. He stopped, listening to the soft sobs and sniffs that sounded from below the window. Quistis never cried. Never for anyone but him. The person who loved her the most in all the world was the only one she would let make her cry. Why did she do this to herself? Or more importantly – and probably more precisely – why did _he_ do these things to her?

* * *

"You! I hate _you_!"

She screamed at him over the table and it only took seconds for the tears to begin flowing, following the words out of her mouth as she turned and ran from the room, dashing down the hall and through the door, slamming it after her.

She didn't want to start crying, but damn it all he was just so horrible sometimes! She was only talking to him about her day, he didn't need to be so... Sectioned all the time! It wasn't as if she was even asking him for much, all she wanted was some form of verbal response, not to be ignored all the time! And then he'd begun smoking! In _her_ flat! He _knew_ she hated it when he smoked! And yet-! And yet...

And yet here she was standing in the doorway of the apartment building, hugging herself and letting herself cry. Over him. Again.

It was stupid really, she knew, but she couldn't help the way he always managed to get on her nerves. He'd always managed it before, when he was simply poking fun at her because... Well because! And she never really minded back then because she hadn't been any different from the rest of the crowd. Back then he was unkind to everyone and she hadn't required any preferential treatment. But now... Now she wanted – no, needed – something more. She needed to be special in his eyes, be treated differently from everyone else, because he loved her didn't he? She didn't want to consider the possibility that he might not. But it was times like these, when she seemed to be the only one affected by their arguments that she seriously doubted his professed feelings towards her.

She wiped a hand across under her eyes, getting rid of her current tears to make room for new ones to slip down her face. Was it so much to ask? To be treated differently once in a while? Not that she wasn't treated differently, but that was just the problem, it really was _once in a while_. He got terribly possessive when they were around other people, particularly men and she couldn't deny the fact that she felt flattered. And he could be incredibly sweet sometimes; doing the little things he knew she really cared about, like cooking dinner and buying her things. Little ways he would spoil her with sappy films she knew he had no real interest in. And dancing.

She was a terrible dancer, she wanted to laugh at the memory of him coaxing her onto a dance floor in one of Galbadia's many fund raising events, a cheeky smirk plastered to his face as she pleaded with him – to no avail. She ended up tripping them both up and landing on her bottom in the middle of the dance floor, trying to scowl at him though they were both laughing too hard.

Yes, there were moments where she was definitely different in his eyes and even she could tell. But those moments were few and far between. And next to the frequent arguments and constant quarrelling where she was always the one in tears by the end of it, the good _moments_ were sophomoric in comparison.

But Seifer would always be Seifer and there was going to be no changing it. She sighed as she stepped into the night to sit on one of the bollards outside the front door, wiping a hand under her eyes. He was probably up there watching TV already as uncaring as ever about their one-sided argument. Which was stupid really because how could an argument be one sided? Simple; it couldn't. They were never really arguing, it was always just her voicing her opinions on him.

She sobbed involuntarily, hating the fact that she was so weak, so useless against him and he could always, _always_ no matter what she did or said make her cry. This was a side of her that nobody ever saw, even when she was little and scraped her knee, she would hold in the tears, reserving them for some later moment when no one would be looking before letting them out. But then of course it was too late, the moment for crying had gone. So she never cried. For anyone but him.

She used to hate the way he bullied everyone when they were kids. They would glare at each other and scowl, but he could never make her cry. Not a single drop. Even when they were teenagers and she saw how he treated those few women he saw differently, if only for a millisecond; saving them from being tormented by others, picking up their books for them, just generally being a prince charming. Days later he wouldn't even acknowledge their existence.

She had never been one of those girls, mainly because there was no way anyone would _dare_ bully her and secondly, she never wanted to be rescued by Seifer Almasy. Now however , all she really wanted was to be nearer to him. Which wasn't exactly going to be easy considering how she already spent nearly all her time with him and being any closer to someone when you were already attached to them in the most intimate of ways both above and below wasn't the simplest of things to acomplish. But it didn't stop her wanting it.

She huffed as she kicked the asphalt under her shoes, she really was being silly and annoying if she thought that she could turn him into a benevolent girl-friend overnight. To begin with, horrible was practically the only word in his dictionary and then of course there was no way they would ever be close enough to each other to be called real friends, let alone the kind to sit down together, paint toenails and talk about crushes. That was just a stupid and impossible notion that she gave up on years ago. Just like she gave up on the apologies.

She couldn't deny that it hurt her when he failed to apologize, conjuring up a pathetic excuse even though he knew it wouldn't suffice, or just simply shrugging and walking away. Yes it hurt her, but she didn't cry about that. She wasn't so soft that she would cry over something so silly as a missing apology.

Which raised the question of why she was out here in the cold, alone. Again.

"You don't really hate me do you?" She jumped, turning her head and shoulders round to see him standing in the doorway, hands by his side, looking incredibly guilty. And just a teensy bit scared. She hadn't even noticed him arriving, she had been too wrapped up in her sorrow to pay any attention to anything else. She turned back around as she thought up an answer.

She could tell him the truth and say she didn't hate him. Pure and simple. But then what would that accomplish? He would nod, turn around and walk back inside to have another cigarette, put his muddy boots on the table, flick on the TV and sit there as if nothing had happened. As always. Or... Or she could tell him exactly what she thought of him, tell him about all the little things in the hopes that he might listen and take some of it in. A futile hope, but then at least she would have tried.

"Does it worry you that I might?" She asked.

"No." He replied. She nodded, the usual response. She opened her mouth to ask him another question, but he wasn't finished. "I'm not worried about whether or not you hate me. I'm worried that I'm holding you back. Keeping you here even though you don't want to stay. It worries me that you could be somewhere else, with someone who would treat you better, and you could be happy. But you're not, because you're with me. And you're unhappy. That's what worries me."

Quistis didn't move. She didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected anything other than that first 'no' and his long-winded reply had caught her off guard. She tried replaying it in her head but it still didn't make sense. Was he... Breaking up with her? He continued adding fuel to her fire. "Since we first got together you've done nothing but hassle me about things. And I've done nothing but ignore you. And I know everything you said was for my own good. And I know I've hurt you, more than... Well, I've hurt you loads and I wouldn't be surprised if you never want to have anything to do with me ever again. So if you do hate me like you said you do, I won't stop you leaving."

"You're not even going to try?" She turned to him, sounding incredulous and feeling a little let down. He shook his head and she felt the tears start up again. So this was it. This was the deciding moment. He was putting things to her. It was her choice; did she stay? Or did she leave him? If she did she couldn't stay here tonight... Either that or he couldn't. But then he'd have to find a place to stay and-

She shook her head, mortified that the thought had even crossed her mind. There was no way she could be without him, even if he hurt her, she was too happy with him. Whenever she had thought of her future, even when they were younger and more naive Seifer would always be a part of it, even as a shadow in the background, he was still there. The thought of scrubbing out his shadow in her picture, replacing him with some faceless dolt, hurt more than she thought was possible.

"Do you want me to leave?" She asked, holding herself and watching his eyes turn skywards, thinking. Surely this was a question that didn't require a whole load of thought, but apparently he was going to take his time and think this through carefully before he said anything.

At long last he turned his gaze back to her and said slowly, "I want you to be happy. And if you can be happy without me then yes I want you to leave and never look back." She could feel her throat tightening and her chest constricting even as he stepped forwards, his hand reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "But... If you... Can't be happy without me... If you... Need me like I find myself needing you... Then I'll keep you here forever and never let you go."

She didn't have to say anything. She couldn't say anything as she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as his arms came round her and pinned her to him. She didn't want to leave him, that she knew, and if he really meant what he just said - about needing her with him - then she had no intentions of even considering it again. And by the way he was crushing her to him, ducking his head to bury his nose in her hair and breathe in her scent with shaky breaths, she could tell he didn't _really_ want to let her go.

"Seifer..." She whispered, pulling away as much as she could with his arms still holding her to him. "I don't hate you... I'm sorry I said it..." He nodded but didn't say anything, just held her closer still, if that was at all possible. "I just... Don't like being the same as all those other girls..."

_That_ made him look at her. He gave her an incredulous frown, holding her away from himself so he could look her in the eye, silently inviting her to explain herself. She took a breath, looking around for inspiration, "I... Want to be different in your eyes..."

"You _are_ different!" He sounded as if this was obvious and she really ought to know it.

"But why are you mean to me then?" She questioned.

He shrugged "I don't think about it before I do it... It's... part of my psyche..."

She frowned, dropping her arms by her sides. "Well it shouldn't be part of your psyche. I don't like always being the one to put effort into this relationship!"

He sighed, seeming to think, then dug in his pocket for his cigarette box, pulling it out and waving it in front of her face before lobbing both it and his silver lighter in the bin some 4 meters away. "There," he said, opening his arms wide and inviting her for a hug, "No more smoking from now on."

Quistis didn't move. She was still staring at the bin. His lighter hadn't quite made the trip and was lying on the ground beside it. "Do you mean it?" She whispered, her eyes still holding doubt and apprehension. "You'll really quit?"

"I mean it." He said, dropping his arms and watching as she went to the bin and bent to retrieve the lighter. It was a nice lighter and it would be a shame to get rid of it. She knew he would miss it later. "If it means it to you then I'll do it."

She couldn't help but smile at him for that. He sounded so sure, so laid-back and confident that he could make good on his word, even though she knew on the inside he was probably beating himself to a proverbial pulp for being such a push over. Giving the lighter a wistful look, she pocketed it and made to go back inside, ignoring Seifer's arms which were once again open for a hug.

"I still haven't forgiven you for making me cry." She said over her shoulder when he followed her, looking a little peeved. But that soon turned to sheepish when she said smoothly "And I know there are boot marks on my test papers, it would be irresponsible to think they may have remained clean in this house."

* * *

A/N: I know what you're probably thinking... 'That has got nothing to do with reflections.' But really it has. They were both reflecting on themselves and the effect the have on the other person and the effect the other person has on them. So really it's all about reflections. Even if it doesn't seem that way :)

R&R please :)

-Okami


	2. TwentyTwenty Surgery

Twenty-twenty Surgery.

It was like going through some absurd surgery every time she looked him in the eyes. He could practically see himself being taken apart and rebuilt in her gaze. He had started off a broken man with a horrible, snarky attitude that seemed as built in and grain deep as the blood running through his filthy veins. He had looked on her with contempt and she had seen him with nothing but distain. But her eyes, those bright, blue eyes had stripped him down to the bare bones, digging under his skin in an infuriating way that made the insults pour that much thicker and that much faster.

It wasn't as though he disliked her personally, just that fact that she seemed to see and know exactly what it was he was about. And he disliked very much being read as easily as she made it seem.

Her evaluating gaze had seen him through inconsiderate, to obnoxious, charming and perfectly civil, to flirtatious and downright insinuating. She never treated him any different from anyone else, but the look in those baby-blues was nothing like what he wanted. He made it his mission to change himself in her eyes somehow, he didn't even care if that distain formed into hatred, he simply wanted the satisfaction of forcing her to change her mind.

It never worked though, not in the way he wanted. Even when he had joined Ultimecia and become the enemy, she didn't change that look. It pissed him off more than he cared to ever let her know.

When he was in the cells after the war, she was the only one who had visited him of her own accord. She was never sent there by Garden. But she never said more than she deemed necessary either.

He supposed that somewhere along the line he had come to respect her immovability and it was perhaps for that reason he was here right now, listening to her breathy moans and whimpers of his name as her body arched into the press of his own. She was clinging to him like he was her life-force - something he found eternally ironic - and he held her just as closely, being careful to make sure his powerful movements caused her no harm.

He was smug and proud that he had managed to change her perception of him at last, even if it was one that mirrored his own feelings of flawed affection. He felt special because he was the one who succeeded in breaking down the Ice Queen and discovering that in fact she was about as icy as the sun on the inside.

There were times when he felt guilty for having her so open towards him. She was like marble, beautiful and strong, with veins of colour running through her that went unnoticed by anyone but him. Only he had been close enough to those eyes to see himself reflected so simply within them. She was like a separate, cut-off part of his own soul, and he was so glad this time, so happy to think of her as his other half.

Yes, it was like going though some absurd surgery every time she looked him in the eyes, but to be honest, he really didn't mind being taken to pieces by her. After all, Quistis Trepe was the only one to have _ever_ broken him down to kit form.


	3. All the things she said

**All the things she said.**

Seifer fidgeted in his cell, stabbing at the slowly growing hole in his lumpy mattress and scratching occasionally at his stomach. He had long since gotten over the fact that he now had fleas, his original reaction of attempting to crush every one of the little buggers he found on his person soon dissipated as he realised that his bed was infested with them, and so crushing them _all_ was absolutely out of the question.

His cell had become somewhat of a home to him, as much as one could call a prison cell a home, and he almost cherished what few objects he was permitted to have with him. Apparently the only things they had deemed safe enough for him to have was a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush, a battered and beaten textbook he had stolen from the Balamb Garden Library when he was enrolled there – it seemed so long ago now – and a locket containing nothing at all. Everything else he had requested, pencils and paper, a proper bed, and even a snow globe – if only on a whim – had been denied. Evidently they considered him enough of a genius to be able to forge an escape plan using only those simple things. Oh gosh he wished!

Night after night he would lie awake at the mercy of his little blood-sucking companions, thinking about the day he would be free of that oppressive space. It wasn't so far away now. He could almost taste the freedom on the tip of his tongue. At one point, freedom had meant death, his execution being the only way to pardon his actions, to gain his liberation from prison. But now he would really be free, with the possibility of a real life and a future and no matter how bleak that future might seem to others, in comparison to his current sorry excuse for existence, the prospect was utter bliss. The only problem was... He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it...

The first thing he had to do was obvious. He had to apologise. And say thank you. He wrinkled his nose at the idea of thanking people who had in all reality wanted him dead, but if he said thank you to anyone he knew who it was going to be. She had after all, been the one fighting for his cause. She was the one who won him back his freedom, won him back his life. And for that at least he had to thank her.

His mind struggled constantly with the idea that she had bothered to do something for him, when all she had ever received from him in the past had been cold glares, crushing laughter and a lifetimes worth of insults. To think that she would promise him his freedom in full, something he had hardly dared to hope for even in his wildest dreams, and had then worked hard to procure him that freedom... If there was anyone he would be happy to fall in front of, apologising and thanking her from bending knee until she was forced to shut him up – or die trying – it was her. Quistis Trepe.

He had been full of scorn when she arrived outside his cell door one day, dressed in her usual seeD uniform, her hair pulled back from her face, and announced to him that he was going to be leaving the prison.

"_Of course," He'd replied sarcastically, "And I suppose you're here to help me pick out the colours for my coffin are you?"_

"_I'm here to offer you your freedom with your head on your shoulders still __**Almasy**__, so you can drop that arrogant tone immediately." She replied tersely as the guard she had brought with her let her into his cell, a look of apprehension crossing his face. "You may leave." She told the man, gesturing with her hand when he stuttered over excuses and objections. It didn't matter how young or beautiful Quistis Trepe was, she was still an intimidating figure, especially when employing her no-nonsense voice and cold glare._

_Seifer took a step backwards as she stepped into his cell, closing the door with a click behind her, locking it automatically even without the keys. "No one is allowed in my cell Trepe." He said coldly, glaring at her as she shrugged off her jacket and made to drop it on his bed. "I wouldn't." He said suddenly, then in response to her questioning glance he said, "Its got fleas."_

_Raising an eyebrow she conceded to drop the jacket on the floor by the door and walked to stand by him, holding a sheet of paper in her hands. He glanced between the paper and her face before asking, "What do you want me to do? Eat it?"_

"_No." Came the reply, "I want you to read it."_

"_Why don't you read it to me?"_

"_It's too long to read out loud."_

"_Sum it up."_

"_The rules to your freedom."_

_He veritably snatched the paper from her hands, turning his back on her as he read. It was indeed a list of rules centring on his freedom. They all looked reasonable; no drugs, stealing, murdering, coup d'état's or political involvement. But there was one rule that he wasn't all that pleased about; constant escort and supervision by a certified seeD for the duration of his existence. He turned to face her with an incredulous expression and said, "This is ridiculous!"_

"_Those are the conditions." She said apparently undeterred. "Either you agree to them, or you will be executed next week. Your choice."_

_Forsaking his usual composure Seifer let his jaw drop, "Next week?"_

_He had been prepared for his impending doom for some time, but there had never been a fixed date, it had always been sometime in the distant future. He wasn't sure if he was ready to die next week, but whatever the case it would be touch and go from now on. "Who would be winning me my freedom?" He asked doubtfully. If it was just some idiot buffoon likely to get him into even deeper shit than he was already in he would pass, save himself the embarrassment and just die._

"_I will."_

"_You will?" He could feel some of his apprehension lifting already, at least Quistis would get the job done and it wouldn't come out half-arsed, but he was still doubtful of what she really meant._

"_That's what I said." She said, sounding bored. "Or has your detainment affected your hearing?"_

Every day since he had accepted her offer, she visited him with the latest update on the investigations. Her visits were never long – 20 minutes at the longest – but she always came without fail. Seifer found himself looking forward to her visits more than it was probably healthy; the one time she was slightly late he reduced himself to a shivering wreck in the corner of his cell, his mind filled with thoughts of her betrayal, the loss of his case and his eventual demise.

It was only after she had explained that she had been held up at an interview with the press, blocking out the main points for his innocence, that Seifer accepted she hadn't abandoned him.

The case passed slowly, but not as slowly as he had expected – 6 months was a long time to be stuck in a cell with nothing to do, no matter how you looked at it – and eventually Quistis came to fetch him at 8 am one morning, a long black bag slung over one shoulder, a thick briefcase in her other hand.

"_Come on Almasy," She said sharply as the guard fumbled with some keys in the lock, "Off your arse and face the wall, hands behind your back."_

_Curious, Seifer obeyed her instructions, his heart soaring at the hope as the handcuffs went on and he was pulled and pushed from his cell, following Quistis along the corridor to what appeared to be the guards' shower and locker room. He was uncuffed, handed a bar of soap and pushed roughly into the shower._

"_Get scrubbing." Quistis called from the other side of the curtain. Once again Seifer obeyed, shedding his flea infested clothing and smashing his fist into the button for the water to start. It was temperamental to say the least, one minute it was warm, then it was fucking hot, then it was fucking cold, then it stopped and he had to start the whole cycle over again. He made sure to swear liberally at each and every temperature change._

"_You're going to court today," Quistis told him, her eyes roving over him as he did the buttons up on the shirt she had brought with her. "You're going to be questioned, witnesses will make testaments against or for you and you'll be questioned again. Then the jury will decide your fate. Either you're innocent today Seifer, or you're 6 feet under by sunset."_

"_Who are the witnesses?" He asked, reaching for the suit jacket. There were a mixture of feelings in his stomach at the mentions of his 'fate'; he felt something akin to butterflies at the thought of being free, but then sick to his core with the image of the block._

"_Rinoa, Squall, Selphie and a handful of others. It only seemed natural that the ones who saw you at your worst would give body to the fight."_

"_Puberty-boy..."_

"_He's not that bad anymore, Seifer." She chided him, coming forward to help him sort out his tie – he'd never been very good with the things and the untidy knot round his neck was testimony to that fact. "He's more likely to agree with the questions I'm going to ask him. And Rinoa is an easy one to get past."_

_His solemn expression must not have seemed too impressed because the next second he found himself being given a very rough hug and his hair was ruffled affectionately. "You have nothing to worry about, Seifer. I'll make sure we win today."_

If there was one thing he could say about Quistis Trepe, it was that he never wanted to come across her in a dark alley-way, anywhere on the planet. She battered the witnesses around like they were ragdolls, a heavy tome seemingly welded into her hand, from which she read entire passages dictating the effects of sorceress manipulation, all of which the witnesses admitted Seifer to have displayed. Squall was nearly turned to tears by the interrogation he was subjected to over 'knightly obligations' and the bone deep, insatiable need to appease his sorceress. Rinoa was exactly as Quistis had predicted, a complete pushover, she practically declared Seifer innocent by herself and with Selphie's grudging agreement at his manipulation, freedom was in sight.

All that remained was his final questioning. Quistis treated him the worst out of all of them, she made various wild accusations, all of which he was able to deflect with the truth, but one question stuck in him above all others:

"_And are you ashamed of what you've done?"_

_He didn't know. He honestly didn't know. After all the fighting had stopped and everyone had settled down again, the saviours into their honorary roles, him to his prison cell, things for him had stopped, become so bleak and grey he honestly didn't know what he would have done had he not been given that feeling of elation, the same one that resided with him still at the mention of being a "Sorceress' Knight"._

"_Pardon?" Quistis frowned, not sure she had heard him say anything at all, or whether it was just his lips moving as he stared out the window at the grey storm clouds that had gathered._

"_Sorceress' Knight." He repeated louder. "All I ever wanted to be was a Sorceress' Knight. And when finally I got the chance, I was beaten to it by Leonheart." He chuckled lightly, shifting his eyes to watch Squall squirming in the witnesses' block. "A little boy's foolish dream seemed so close to being crushed, but Ultimecia offered me the chance again. I took it without hesitation. I lived my dream and it tasted so sweet, like the cotton candy we used to get on Sundays at the orphanage." He licked his lips and smiled, his green eyes returning to the view from the window. "That sweetness was to die for, to __**kill**__ for. I killed for it, I was prepared to die for it. But am I ashamed?"_

_The courtroom was in utter silence, not a body dared to interrupt his flow because this was the moment when the murderer of thousands, the ruiner of lives himself revealed himself._

"_Yes I'm ashamed. I murdered for a woman I knew only in my mind. I fired my gun until my clip was empty and the floors were stained with innocent blood for a __**feeling**__. Who wouldn't be ashamed of such mediocre reasoning? But if you offered me the chance to go back in time and stop myself from making the biggest decision in history? No, I wouldn't change a damn thing in my life."_

He found himself biting his nails as he waited for the jury's verdict. It took them barely 15 minutes to decide. The entire 15 minutes Quistis had uncrossed her fingers once. She was stone faced and pale. He was shaking and was fairly sure he was green. Once the jury had taken their seats, the envelope was brought to the judge. It seemed like the world had stood still. Seifer hadn't even opened his eyes for the verdict and he was pretty sure the courtroom was holding its breath.

"Could Ms. Trepe please come forward?"

The sound of Quistis's heels clopping on the floor did little to calm his nerves, neither did her little gasp or the sound of her sobbing. He didn't dare open his eyes even as she virtually threw herself at him, her arms linking around his neck and her sobs shaking his body. The only thing he had wanted to hear, the only words short of 'I love you' that could have opened his eyes, stopped his heart in his chest and sprung tears of joy all at once was her strangled cry of:

"We did it! We did it, Seifer! You're _free_!"

And it was pure bliss. Sweetness like nothing else he had felt, tasted or worse. It was all the things she'd said.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Firstly I must apologise for taking so long to post anything new, I had writers block and no internet since christmas because a lot of things happened and the bottom line is the house was flooded and the damage is collosal, hense the total lack of internet and updates. I really apologise, but I promise I will be working hard to bring out new stuff at not-too-irregular intervals.

Ok, now that's said, I must explain that the judge asked Quistis to come forward because... Awwh gosh I can't tell you lol xD I'll write that in another drabble xD So keep reading and I really hope this makes up for the long absense :(

-Okami

P.S. Prompts are always welcomed :)


	4. Kan Ek Met Jou Dans?

**_A/N:_** I'm so sorry x'( I have had some serious writters block and haven't uploaded anything in forever! I am ashamed to say it has taken my months to write anything and I am also quite ashamed to say I have not uploaded for good cop bad cop in nearly a year! Terrible I know! Positively sacriledge...

Well if you want to know what the title says, it's 'Can I dance with you?'. If you don't believe me and want to check it out for yourselves, type it into google translate under Afrikaans. Coincidently, there is a fantastic song under the same name, by straatligkinders. Go check it out, the guitar is amazing...

well enjoy - if that's possible ¬¬

* * *

**Kan Ek Met Jou Dans?**

Quistis sighed, her hands falling to her hips as she frowned in agitation at the boxes on her bed. She thought she'd told him she was busy tonight and couldn't continue with her 'rehab'.

"_You're a workaholic." He said, watching her scribbling away on the paper, her eyes narrowing at him momentarily in annoyance before darting to the screen for reference._

"_I am not a workaholic," she said calmly, her voice carefully regulated and in her best no-nonsense tone. "I simply understand the need for a decent work ethic, unlike __**somebody**__ we both know."_

_He chuckled and dropped himself into the chair on the opposite side of her desk, green eyes watching the movement of her pen across the paper. "What are you working on?"_

"_Freshers' listings."_

"_For Squall?"_

"_..."_

"_Isn't that administrative work? Why are you doing it?"_

"_Because he was busy."_

_Seifer raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "That still doesn't explain why you're doing it."_

_Quistis sighed and stopped working, sitting up and removing her glasses to fix him with 'that' look. "What's your point?"_

"_My point is," He said, sitting up and reaching a hand across the table, his index finger coming forward to tap the papers in front of her. "You're doing extra work that wasn't assigned to you. Work-a-hol-ic."_

Walking over she picked up the envelope from on top of the box and flipped it open, yanking out the paper inside. It was no shock to see it was from Seifer – he had been the only one showering her with gifts and confetti for the past month and a half (Although admittedly the gifts were more ridiculous than heartfelt) – and she was half inclined toward tossing the whole lot in the bin and ignoring him entirely. But while she might have acted cold and aloof in her work, the attention was not unwanted and she would be lying through her teeth if she said she didn't enjoy it.

"_Come on, Instructor," he coaxed as she shook her head and turned to walk away down the corridor, picking bits of confetti out of her hair, "I was only having fun."_

"_At my expense." She said still walking away from him, although his long stride was doing little to help her escape-attempt. "You've also created a bloody great mess in the hallway."_

"_The maids will get it I'm sure." He whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Shivering, Quistis spun suddenly crashing into Seifer, who hadn't been able to stop in time._

"_I would appreciate it if I didn't have to keep checking over my shoulder all the time to made sure I'm not going to be drowned in bubbles or whisked out a window or covered in confetti for the whole garden to see, thank you."_

"_Of course M' Lady," Seifer grinned, then offered his hand with a slight bow. "Lunch?"_

Raising her eyebrows slightly at the letter, Quistis turned to the boxes underneath it. The first box was a shoe box containing a very nice pair of red suede heels. Raising her eyebrows appreciatively, she kicked off one of her own heels and slipped the new one onto her foot. To her amazement it fitted perfectly, which of course raised the question of how Seifer knew her shoe size?

The second box contained a dress, mid-thigh length, red, thick straps and it had a satin sort of feel to the material that shimmered dimly in the light. It was perfectly in her size, everything down to the bust and she felt herself reddening at the thought of Seifer knowing exactly what bra size she actually was, let alone having to face him with the knowledge of her double-Ds.

Shaking off the thought, she laid the dress out on the bed and went to the bathroom, if she hurried she could get ready in the hour he had left her. 45 minutes later and Quistis was ready, even having fished out some red earrings to go with her dress, the tiny dangles resting nicely in her hair. She'd left it down as per Seifer's instructions and now it was curling at the edges. She hated leaving her hair down for that exact reason and he hadn't left her enough time to straighten it and wetting it down would just make it curl even more. Glancing at the clock on her night stand, Quistis sighed and headed for the exit. Time to meet her prince charming, she supposed, if he even turned up of course.

Outside the restaurant Désir Noir, Seifer was waiting with his hands in his pockets and a carefully constructed look of patience written on his face. Patience was undoubtedly the key to working with Trepe and the carefully constructed looks and barely concealed mirth was what had gotten him into the position to ask her on an 'excursion' with him now.

_My dear Instructor,_

_As your personal workaholic rehabilitation officer, _

_I recommend an evening's excursion from Garden, _

_with no thoughts of paperwork or exercise for the _

_duration of said excursion. I will expect you to _

_wear the dress and shoes provided, with your hair_

_down and make-up to suit. If you are not present_

_at the Restaurant Désir Noir by 7:30 PM tonight, I _

_will take it upon myself to think up some gruelling _

_punishment that you will not enjoy in the slightest_

_- trust me._

_I trust I will see you there,_

_Seifer._

He hadn't missed the fact that it was a little short notice, but if he knew Trepe, the only thing she would have planned for tonight would be marking papers and a date with a T-rexaur. In his opinion, they were no reasons to decline his proposal and certainly nothing to be missed.

Resisting the urge to check his watch for the millionth time, Seifer began thumbing a box in his pocket. It was a lot like the boxes he'd left in Quistis' room earlier, except this one was wrapped and of a little bit more importance than the others. He winced a little at the thought of how much this entire evening would cost him, and he wasn't sure how he would explain the expenses to anyone if asked, but he was determined the evening would not be a waste. That was if Trepe even turned up.

But just as that thought ran through his brain, a black cab pulled up in front of him and Quistis herself clambered from the back seat. She was dressed in the clothing he'd picked out for her and had even arranged her hair and make-up how he wanted, the small flower pinned into her hair greatly complimenting the rouge lipstick she had on. He had to remind himself to breathe and slap on a smirk.

Seifer himself was dressed in a plain suit, minus the tie and Quistis found the change refreshing. Shutting the cab door she clutched her handbag in both hands as she stepped forward to meet him. He had that infuriating smile back and was looking her up and down with a less than innocent look in his eyes. She couldn't decide whether that was a bad thing or not.

"Good evening instructor." He grinned, offering her his arm when she got close enough, "I love the dress."

Rolling her eyes, Quistis strung her arm through his and let him lead her inside.

_The ballroom was decked out in all the trimmings she could remember from her own SeeD Graduation Ball, everything from the punch tower in the corner to the balloons floating around at the ceiling, all blues and golds and tied together with white ribbons. She gazed out over her students – the few who had made SeeD and the others who didn't – and felt herself transported back, all those years ago to when she was seeing it all for the first time._

_Predictably though, her peace was not to last for long. A hand slipped round her waist, thumb brushing the skin exposed by the backless dress – Selphie's doing, not her's – and a voice murmured somewhere above her, "I love the dress."_

The restaurant itself was an interesting affair with table designed specifically for two and a red velvet carpet leading the way to an open floor – for dancing she supposed. There were lit candles on every table and the lights were turned down low, a live orchestra of three played softly in the corner – very romantic, for once.

They were ushered to a table by the dance floor and Seifer even remembered to hold out her chair for her. Once they were seated a waitress handed them menus – giggling horrendously and not even _looking_ at Quistis as she handed her the menu – and it was then that Quistis decided she was going to get to the bottom of this little... Charade.

"So," She began, pretending to peruse the wine list, "this 'excursion'. Why do I need an excursion?"

"Because you need to know how to have fun." Seifer replied, also pretending to select a drink.

"And why do I need to be dressed up like a hooker?"

He let the menu fall and gave her a look of shock before scanning her appearance and shaking his head, "My dear Instructor, you are no hooker! You look positively exquisite this evening and no mere hooker has ever received such a compliment from me."

She rolled her eyes at him, hiding her blush behind her menu and replying, "But no mere instructor had ever dressed in a skirt this short to sit in a darkened room with a man and the intentions of innocent fun, Mr Almasy."

He wiggled his eyebrows and she blushed again, glancing around the room at the other couples as he gestured for the waitress to come back over, "I think we'll have the chardonnay please and Quistis-" He brought her attention back to the table, "Some water?"

She nodded, then waited for the girl to leave again before muttering, "Simpering idiot..."

"What was that?" Seifer asked, one corner of his lips pulling into a smirk. Of course he'd heard her, he just wanted her to say it again.

"I called her a simpering idiot."

"Why?"

"She's not doing her job, she's flirting with the customers instead and hasn't taken her eyes off you since we entered the room. If she'd that desperate a whore I'm sure someone would pick her off the streets no trouble, a skirt that short and a look on her face that says she's already half-way there." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and went back to skimming the menu, "Insufferable nitwit, drooling over strangers. Disgusting."

Seifer, for his part, didn't know whether he should be insulted by that comment or laugh at it. Despite the implications to him being a last measure for desperate women, he chose the latter. "That has got to be one of the most unforgiving speeches I've ever heard you give." He grinned shaking his head and wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. "It's almost worth calling her over for her to hear!"

Quistis glared at him over her menu and kicked him hard in the shin, enjoying his look of immediate discomfort. "If you so wish to hear it again I'm sure I could construct one around your good self."

"That's not the only thing you'd be constructing around my good self." He mumbled, earning him another kick, in the other shin.

"I really wish you would not fight with me, Seifer, you're ruining the mood." She smiled sweetly and he nearly forgot how to breathe.

"The mood where you break my legs and insult the staff?" He asked, his voice just as calm and 'loving' as the waitress set the two bottles down on the table.

"Would Sir care to taste?" The waitress – Kellen, if her badge stated correctly – asked in a sugary voice, tilting the bottle slightly and running a couple of fingers – complete with stick on nails – around the neck of the vessel suggestively.

"Would you do the honours," Seifer asked Quistis, a teasing glint in his eye as he added, "Darling?"

"I'm afraid we can't offer alcohol to under 18s." Kellen said, eyeing Quistis scathingly. Outraged at the girl's impertinence, she was about to reply as such when Seifer's booming laugh stopped her in her tracks.

"M' Lady is more than woman enough for a bottle of wine!" He laughed, positively grinning from ear to ear at the two woman fighting in silence before him. "And if she were under 18, I'd like to think she would be more inclined to do as I say."

"I'd _love_ to taste the wine, _Kellen_," Quistis said, her freezing cold gaze directed at someone other than the man across from her – something he was really quite glad of – "_If_ you can tear your gaze away from my Fiancé long enough to uncork the bottle."

If Kellen was thinking any differently of Seifer now, she didn't show it, although she did set to work opening the wine. Seifer winked at Quistis across the table, then went back to skimming the menu. The 'soon-to-be-married' trick had worked a few times before, but was generally only put into action when one of them was being harassed by an undesirable personage with reasonably low brain power.

"_Quistis Trepe?"_

_Quistis looked up from her book into the sky blue eyes of a handsome man with short black hair and wearing the Trabian uniform. He was looking down at her with a drink in each hand and a hopeful look in his eyes. It was time to stop trying to read in public places, she picked up far too many Trepies this way and frankly, the Balamb branch alone was enough to pale her complexion._

"_Do you mind if I sit?" He asked, looking around at the other armchairs that surrounded her, before lifting one of the drinks and saying with a smile, "I bought you a drink."_

"_I'm afraid I had a drink earlier." Quistis said, which wasn't exactly a lie, but it had been an orange juice and the thing the man had in his hand looked like a 'sex on the beach' – suggestive to the point of disgusting – and it wasn't her favourite. Not really taking the hint, the man sat down opposite her and put the two drinks on the table, his eyes never leaving her chest. He opened his mouth and was about to say something when a hand landed on her shoulder and a warm shadow leant over her, a 'grasshopper' – her favourite cocktail by far – landing on the table._

"_Sorry I'm late darling," Seifer said, bending to place a kiss on her cheek, "Traffic was terrible and it's raining like hell out there."_

_As if on cue a droplet of water slid from his hair onto her neck and she shivered, "I can imagine." Quistis said, closing her book and turning to give him her full attention, completely ignoring the man across from her who now wore an expression similar to that of a squashed frog. "I've been waiting for you for hours."_

_Seifer grinned at her, then turned to the other man with a look of surprise, even though there was no realistic way he could have missed him, sitting where he was. "Oh sorry, I didn't realise you knew each other." He stuck out his hand and the other man shook it hesitantly. "You'll have to invite him to the wedding, Quisty."_

_Resisting the urge to pick him up on the nick-name, Quistis laughed and said, "My mother rang this afternoon, she wanted to hear all about your proposal."_

_Nodding and grinning at her like a Cheshire cat, Seifer asked, "Did you tell her you were pregnant as well?"_

_The man left fairly quickly after that, to the sounds of Quistis and Seifer's laughter as they sat in relative comfort, drinking grasshoppers and – in Seifer's case – sex on the beach._

"I'll have the Steak, blue rare with the sautéed potatoes and vegetables," Seifer said, folding his menu as Kellen scribbled down his order, "And Quistis?"

"Duck á la Bartolomeo Scappi?"

Their orders taken, Kellen rushed off to the kitchens and the table was left in relative peace.

"You really don't like her, do you?" Seifer teased, leaning his arms on the table and sipping at his wine. Across the table, Quistis shook her head, picking up her glass and swilling the liquid inside.

"She's ruining the mood with her own silly infatuations."

"Silly?"

"She doesn't even know you, Seifer."

"Maybe you should tell her that then?"

"Like I said – ruining the mood."

He chuckled and slipped a hand into his pocket, setting his wine down. "Then here," he said, producing the box he had been fiddling with before and sliding it along the table towards her. "Let me lighten it."

She blinked at the box in puzzlement. It was wrapped in plain scarlet paper and was around A5 sized. Casting Seifer a frown, she picked up the box and slid her finger under the tape, pulling the paper off to reveal a box like the ones in her room. Frown deepening, she opened this too. And gasped.

"_What're you doing?" Seifer asked, watching from the door as Quistis struggled against the window, one hand on the handle and the other pushing against the wall beside it._

"_I'm trying to shut the window," She snapped, "What does it look like I'm doing."_

"_Face-fucking the wall?"_

_She turned to give him a dirty look, but just then a gust of wind blew into the window and slammed it shut. Quistis yelped as her wrist was jerked sideways by the force and when she drew her arm back, a load of beads fell to the floor, tinkling like raindrops._

"_Oh no..." She murmured, crouching down and trying to gather them all back up again, as Seifer just stood back and laughed._

"My bracelet..." Quistis said, picking it delicately from the box and holding it up, inspecting it.

"I had it fixed," Seifer filled her in, his wine glass back in his hand and the ghost of a smile on his lips. "You were devastated when it broke. I thought you would be happy to have it back."

"Oh I am." She said quietly. She had been upset when her necklace broke, that much was certainly true, but it was only something she'd bought herself at an antique store after her graduation. The old pearls were dulled and one of the sapphires was cracked, but it still held symbolism for her and she liked it. The fact it broke bothered her at the beginning, but eventually she pushed the thought aside and got on with things. It was only a few weeks ago, but she was grateful it was back now; she missed its weight.

"I also got you this," Seifer said, sliding over yet another box with a slight blush colouring his cheeks. _Or was that just the lighting?_ "The jeweller said he'd had it for a long time but it really needed a counterpart."

Fastening the bracelet round her wrist, Quistis reached for the other box. Opening it revealed a necklace, much the same as her bracelet, only the pearls were smaller and a sapphire sat one every 7 pearls, instead of every 4.

"B-but why?" She asked, genuinely confused as Seifer got up from his seat and came round her side of the table, taking the necklace from the box and unclipping it. He gently moved her hair out of the way and drew the beads around her neck.

"Happy Birthday Q."

Her heart skipped a beat. Her birthday. With all her work and trying to convince herself that Garden's coffee was not a living being in itself, she'd completely forgotten the date. Maybe Seifer was right... Maybe she _was_ a workaholic.

Seifer sat down again just as their food was brought out to them by the simpering Kellen. This time however, she received no attention from Seifer, who was busily gauging Quistis' reaction to his gifts. She touched the necklace lightly, rolling a bead between her fingers as she tried to think up a suitable way to express her gratitude. Finding none, she turned to her food, which was steaming and emitting wonderful aromas. Seifer frowned at her lack of a reaction, but didn't bring it up in favour of investigating his own meal. The food was rich, there was no doubt about that, and in the first few mouthfuls, Quistis had already decided she would have preferred it to be softer, but it was delicious none the less and all too quickly it was gone.

She was just dabbing at the corners of her mouth when she noticed Seifer chuckling at something. Quickly checking she hadn't slopped anything hideous down her front, Quistis nudged his leg under the table, perhaps – judging by his expression and the wobble of his chair as he jumped – a little further up his leg than she'd originally intended. "What's so funny?"

Wiping the shocked look from his face, he nodded his head in the direction of a couple flouncing around on the dance-floor. They were rather thin, tall and looked like an estranged version of Selphie and Squall. The girl was dressed in a ridiculously thin and 'wafty' blue number and was flinging herself shamelessly around the floor. The man was quite clearly undernourished and had a distinctly foppish air about him. Despite her own better judgement, Quistis found herself laughing at the spectacle, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep the volume down.

"Whaddaya say we show them how it's done?" Seifer asked, halting her laughter in a second. For all her grace and poise, Quistis Trepe did _not_ enjoy dancing. She regarded it as a generally dangerous sport, indulged in by those who enjoyed breaking their ankles and having their toes crushed on a regular basis.

"I would rather not." She shook her head, reaching for her wine. But before she got there, Seifer had taken hold of her outstretched fingers and pulled her from her chair. They were already on the dance floor before her brain engaged and she began to struggle.

"Oh come on, Trepe," Seifer protested, watching her vain attempts to pry his fingers from hers. "I'm not that terrible a dancer."

"No but I am." She whined, pushing futilely at his hand, to no avail as he drew her in closer, trapping her in his arm and giving her an experimental twist.

"Bullshit," He frowned as she struggled to keep her feet, "You're Quistis Trepe, SeeD prodigy and all round whizz-kid. Moving your feet to some music should be simples."

"Well it's not." She huffed, planting herself firmly in one place and attempting to fold her arms – a little difficult since he was still holding one of her hands.

"You're not even going to try?" He coaxed, swaying them as he wiggled his eyebrows – such an odd move as to be uncharacteristic, but then so typically Seifer. "Come on, it'll be fun. Promise."

She raised her eyebrows in a 'now convince me' way, but relaxed anyway reasoning that even if she managed to fall over and break her neck, she had to die some day and if she _did_ die, she wouldn't know and therefore couldn't complain.

Struggling to keep the smile from breaking out, Seifer readjusted their hands and started off with a waltz, moving fluidly around the floor, making sure Quistis was held up and not allowed to fall to the ground – something his lady appeared very grateful for.

They stepped gracefully across the floor, the occasional twist and spin adding to the look, but in general, Seifer kept them on the straight and narrow. At least until the band began playing something else. Unfortunately for Quistis it turned out to be a salsa. She immediately tried to steer Seifer back towards their seats, but he was having none of that and spun her, laughing at her squeak of fright.

"Stop worrying Trepe," He said when he pulled her back in, dipping her slightly before stepping back a few paces, dragging her with him, "Loosen up and have some fun. Dance."

"_I love the dress."_

_She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over the low front. Even if he liked it, she certainly didn't, perhaps even for that exact reason. It was too long and too tight and had too much of a sheen on it. Not to mention the halter-neck that covered bugger-all and the backless feature that gained her many a new Trepie. The fact that Seifer 'loved' it was doing little for her opinion on the garment._

"_Why don't you wear clothes like this more often? You can be sure I would have paid more attention in class."_

_Oh great. Well that was some clear incentive now, wasn't it? If she had wanted him to pay attention in class she could have simply poked him in the eye every time he looked out the window. But that was assuming he had __**ever**__ looked out the window. Which was rare as most days his gaze was fixed either on her chest or her bum._

"_Dressing up has never been my forte, Almasy." She replied coolly. This was not entirely untrue, but would have been better classed as a gross understatement. Quistis __**never**__ dressed up. Testimony to this fact was the small detail of everything she was wearing tonight – baring her underwear and bracelet – belonging to someone else. Her wardrobe was embarrassingly lacking in variety and as such she was very under catered for in the event of a celebration such as the one she now found herself attending._

"_Well you look very nice." He said, his hand on her waist swaying her slightly, just enough to make her wonder if he was even aware he was doing it at all, but enough to make her blush and them look like a couple. She was just about to excuse herself and beat a hasty retreat to a more secluded corner of the ballroom – where she would hopefully be left to sigh and 'look pretty' in peace – when Seifer murmured in her ear, his breath moving a carefully arranged ringlet, "Dance."_

_Despite her protests, he had dragged her onto the dance floor and proceeded to spin and dip her and follow the general dancing trend until she had tripped on her own skirt and sent them both crashing earthwards. She had scrambled off him, apologising profusely and red as tomato, while he had simply lain on the floor and laughed until he resembled a similar fruit._

"Seifer, I really don't think-"

"You know how to Samba don't you?"

"Yes but-"

"Then Samba with me."

"Seifer-"

"Dance with me."

She paused. He tightened his grip. She sighed. He shot her the puppy-dog-eyes. She rolled her eyes and he smirked. The rest was history.

"_This has got to be your most ridiculous idea yet." She backed away from him, folding her arms and wrinkling her nose at the box he had in his hands._

"_Geez, Trepe!" He exclaimed, resisting the urge to laugh at her distain for his tastes, "It's just a pizza!"_

"_It's a greasy bit of dough, burnt to a crisp and served in a cardboard box." She corrected, her nose already stuck in the air, "I'm not eating it."_

"_Why'd 'ya have to be so picky?" He asked, advancing with the pizza box in hand. "Anyone would think caviar is too trashy for your tastes!"_

"_I asked you for lunch," Quistis berated him, backing way again until her back was pressed against the wall and she had nowhere left to go. "Not caviar and __**certainly**__ not trailer park chow!"_

"_Come on, Trepe." He coaxed, brandishing a slice, now barely a meter and a half way and grinning like Christmas had come early. "It's not going to kill you."_

"_It might." She hissed. Do you know, it was funny. Sometimes she reminded him of a swan, so tall and so regal, gliding through life with a majesty that belied all belief. And at other times she looked so much like a little frightened kitten, all claws, teeth and hissing that he wasn't really sure which one was real. Or which one he liked better. On this occasion, the hissing spitting cat he was faced with was providing excellent entertainment and for that he supposed she was alright._

"_Just one little bite..." He whispered, pushing the tip of the slice between her lips and watching as her expression turned from scornful to determined. Almost quicker than he could blink she had opened wide and taken such a bite out of the thing, Seifer found himself snatching his hand back reflexively for fear she might have bitten it off._

_He was given no time to celebrate his victory however as the next second saw the remainder of the slice squashed against the tilt of his jaw and Quistis stalking away across the classroom towards the door. Peeling the pizza from his face, he contemplated dropping it or putting it in her desk-drawer, before he finally decided he was going to simply throw it at her._

_It hit her square in the back of the head, tomato, mushrooms and cheese sticking in her hair and changing her expression from 'pissed off' to 'what the hell just happened?'. Needless to say Seifer was absolutely wetting himself at the back of the room and therefore didn't mind when the rest of the pizza ending up smeared on his face/chest/arms or anywhere else she could reasonably rub it without gaining questionable glances from the blond man she was currently covering in grease and dough. Besides, he wasn't the one who had to walk through the entire garden to get to the shower with a pizza shaped splat on the back of his head. And it wasn't like he had any reputation to uphold either._

"I will never dance with you again!" Quistis scowled as they stepped outside. It had begun to snow and if the air had been cold before they started dinner, some two hours later it was absolutely freezing. "I should never have agreed to this."

"Oh it wasn't too bad." Seifer chuckled, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to Quistis. In truth, she had done very-well with the Samba, she was even managing to look halfway seductive – tottering about as she was and nearly crushing his fingers for the entire 'dance' – until she slipped and they both crashed to the floor amid rounds of applaud. She'd been the same colour as the wine when he'd helped her to her feet and had remained the same shade of deepest red while he paid and they left. She was blushing so hard he could have sworn the first few snowflakes melted before they even reached her burning cheeks. "I enjoyed it."

One of the few things Seifer found he really liked about himself was his honesty, and in all honesty, he _had_ enjoyed being able to bend her to his will, coax her into dancing with him and holding some sort of civil conversation for most of the evening. Admittedly he had rather more enjoyed the feel of her body swaying with his than he had her actual dancing skills, but when he told her he enjoyed it he hadn't specified which part, so he didn't feel it counted as lying.

Quistis frowned and popped open her clutch bag, digging around for her phone but coming up with nothing but fresh mints and a spare hairclip.

"I forgot my phone..." She mumbled, glancing up at Seifer sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk working its way onto his lips as he teased, "In too much of a rush to see me?" She merely narrowed her eyes at him and made to walk off down the street. Shaking his head in good humour he said, "I'll take you home, don't worry."

She stopped walking and nodded, waiting for him to pull his phone from his jacket pocket before slipping her arms through the thing and pulling it tighter round herself. It was colder tonight than it had been in a long time and a glance at Seifer's shirt becoming rapidly see-through, saw her feeling a little guilty for having 'borrowed' his jacket.

It was little over 10 minutes later that the taxi arrived and they both clambered into the backseat, soaking wet and shivering. Seifer in particular was shaking like a leaf in a high gale. Shuffling closer across the seats, she leant her weight against him, the fingers of her left hand ghosting over the back of his right. His jade green eyes scanned her face, questioning in them but no rejection. She pressed her advantage, swivelling round to wrap her arms round him an awkward hug, leaving no room for complaint or redirection.

"Thank you for my birthday." She whispered in his ear and felt as his arms wrapped round her, returning the embrace.

"Anytime." He whispered back.

It was a 30 minute drive to Garden's docking station and the majority of the ride was spent in silence and stillness. Seifer had stopped shivering as they'd driven past the beach and Quistis was sure the return of his jacket would help his case further.

30 minutes later and Seifer and Quistis were running through the gates of Balamb Garden, snow catching in their hair and on their skin. For her part, Quistis was mostly dry under the jacket, only her legs were freezing and her hair was a wonderfully arranged, sodden mess. Seifer looked like he was about to die of pneumonia at any second. The quicker they got to their dorms the better.

True to his word, Seifer returned her home, right to her front door and they stood there quietly for a moment before Quistis said softly, "Thank you, Seifer. This has been..." She paused, thinking hard whether she was really being truthful or not before she added, "The best birthday I can remember."

He looked a little taken aback, as though he either really didn't believe her or her really didn't expect that sort of a thank you.

"I know I didn't say it at the time," She continued, "But I really do appreciate you fixing my bracelet, and this necklace too." She touched the item delicately, staring at the floor – it was as good a thing to look at as any. "I realise this must have cost you a fortune and I really enjoyed tonight and-"

He cut her off, two fingers under her chin lifting her face to look at him, the index finger of his other hand covering her lips. "You don't have to thank me. You just have to enjoy yourself."

"But you were the only one in the world who remembered my Birthday..." She whispered, an errant tear running down one cheek. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did. The fact that no one cared enough to remember her special day – she had even forgotten herself. It seemed almost ironic that the person most shunned and hated by society as a whole, would be the only one to remember something so trivial as her birthday and do something nice for her to commemorate it. It made her feel... Lonely.

"Then you will have to remind them all tomorrow." He whispered, wiping her tear away with his thumb. "Or at least before I get to them because there will be hell to pay if I do. Promise."

He sealed it with a kiss. And not just your regular, run of the mill, 'peck on the lips then duck for cover' kiss either. It was a full on, lip bruising, teeth clashing, star inducing kiss. The kind that makes your legs go weak and butterflies spawn in your stomach. Wait, butterflies? Quistis jerked back, her lungs burning and her brain screaming for air. For his part, Seifer seemed quite out of breath himself, and had even taken to leaning against her dormitory door for support.

"Sorry," he muttered, eyes shut and an expression of pain on his face. "I, err..."

He didn't get much further, his next words being cut off by Quistis' lips on his, softer this time but no less demanding, and coupled with her fingers twisted in the soaking material of his lapels pulling him as close to herself as she could get, there wasn't really all that much which could be said to have crossed his mind.

He would think later, to himself in the morning that he should have stayed with her last night and relieved the pain in his trousers in a way he would make _sure_ would satisfy them both. But in hindsight it was better this way. If he _had_ stayed with her, there was no way he would be giving her back in the morning anyway. At least this way she could uphold her reputation. Minus the pizza.

* * *

A/N: I really apologise for the poor quality of the writing here, I realise it's not all that great and I must admitt I have very little excuses for it, other than I have not been visited by a plot bunny in a long time... *sniff sniff*...

-Okami


	5. Wishful Thinking

**_A/N:_** I'll admitt, it's a lot shorter than my last post, but I decided that if I couldn't write well enough without the plot bunnies for looooong chapters, then I should try my hand at some shorter ones and see how I go :)

Enjoy :D

* * *

"Almasy..." Quistis chided, peering over his shoulder at his work. "Doodling all over it is not going to get it done any faster."

He raised an eyebrow, but continued to draw anyway. He was quite impressed by this drawing, it was quite an accurate representation of the girl standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder, fingers caressing the edge of his collar. _Wait, what?_

Snapping himself out of his reverie, Seifer twisted to look at her and a smile crept slowly onto her face. "Besides, if I looked anything like that under my clothes I might as well be Hyne's own gift to men."

He turned back to his work feeling slightly, well, shocked. Indeed the drawing he had been working on was clotheless and extremely well blessed, but he didn't expect-

Well, this was Quistis for Hyne's sake! She was tutoring him, extra lessons after hours just to get him past the upcoming SeeD exam, in her dorm room. She was prudish and proper and was indeed Hyne's gift to men, but absolutely unobtainable. At least that was what he had been thinking _before_ her cool lips began peppers his neck and shoulders with kisses.

At some point in their tutoring session she had removed her jacket and was left in her skirt and blouse, but it was pretty obvious that she was more than hot for him right now. "Come on Seifer," She whispered in between kisses, "I know you want me, why not just take me now?"

Ever an opportunist, Seifer was not inclined to miss this chance and pushed his chair out to make room for Quistis to slide onto his lap. He felt his throat becoming dry as her skirt pushed up her legs. She had always been a beautiful creature and he was not about to pretend he hadn't noticed, but he had never really been close enough to her to really appreciate it.

"Seifer?" She purred, removing her glasses and setting them down delicately on the desk behind her. He nodded, hands already fixed on her hips. "Kiss me?"

He did. Slowly at first, but at her mumble for 'more', he deepened it, sliding his hands up her back and into her hair, licking along the seam of her lips until she let him in. Strangely enough, her tongue and lips tasted like candyfloss, like she'd just finished eating a whole load of the stuff, which was funny because he hadn't seen her eating anything at all.

"Seifer..." She mumbled into his mouth, her fingers beginning to fiddle with the buttons on the front of his uniform. He smirked, still a little surprised that this was actually happening. There were plenty of cadets at this blasted place that would love to be in his position right now, clamped firmly between the thighs of Instructor Trepe, his tongue in her mouth and his hands in her hair as she struggled to take his clothes off. It was like all his dreams come true. There was just one problem; she had far too many clothes on for his liking.

Standing up, he laid her down on the desk, despite her complaints, and tugged her blouse from her skirt. Getting the idea, she started from the top while he started from the bottom. Halfway through his buttons, Seifer was fast running out of patience and decided just to rip the buttons off. Her little gasp and glare at his disrespect for her blouse was quickly covered over by the whimper of his name that escaped her when he bent to kiss her stomach.

Working his way down, Seifer was just hooking his fingers into her underwear, planning on stripping her of her skirt and pants in the same movement when he was startled by a sharp ringing.

Flinching, he straightened, clapping his hands over his ears and glaring around the room in search of the source of the offending noise. Below him, Quistis didn't seem to have noticed the sound and was sat up, fiddling with his belt buckle. He glanced down to tell her something – he wasn't sure what – but suddenly she wasn't there. And slowly, like running watercolours, the objects in Quistis' room began to bleed into one another, and fade.

Blinking, Seifer found himself suddenly blinded by light, the source of the ringing resting on his bedside table some 2 feet away. Groaning, he heaved himself up onto one elbow and smashed the offensive object on the head to shut it up. Sitting up, he looked around to find himself sat in his bed in his _own_ dorm room, Quistis – predictably – nowhere to be seen. He groaned and rubbed his brow in frustration. The 4th Trepe orientated fantasy he had concocted this week and once again he was stuck with nothing but the prospect of a new day and one hell of a case of morning wood.

Letting out a sigh, Seifer mumbled half-heartedly, only partially committed to his observation when he said to the empty room, "I need to get a life..."

* * *

**_A/N:_** Well the title _is_ wishful thinking xD

R&R

-Okami


	6. Jk

**_A/N: _**I'm sorry, but it had to be done xD

* * *

"What're we going to do tonight, Adel?"

"The same thing we do every night, Seifer. Try to TAKE OVER THE WORLD!"

"Zoinks!"

* * *

**_A/N:_** Heh heh heh heh hehhhh x)

-Okami


	7. Jk the second xD

**_A/N:_** I'm not so sorry about this one xD

* * *

"What're we going to do tonight, Squall?"

"..."

"Fine, I... Guess we'll do the same thing we do every night... Try to... Go ahead and save the world..."

"...Rinoa."

* * *

**_A/N:_** LOL!

-Okami


	8. Sinking Ships

Prompt: "And those that wait forever for ships that don't come in."

He tried to sleep. He shut his eyes, laid perfectly still and tried to drift away. But something was keeping him awake. It was the rain on the window, beating a steady patter against the glass. It was... Soothing. In an irritating, unstoppable way. The sound filled his small room without a problem. But it could not take the place of his thinking. In truth, it was not the noise of the rain keeping him awake. It was the whirr of cogs as his brain tossed restlessly inside his head.

The small room he had for a bedroom served all his purposes well enough and fit all his meagre belongings with plenty of walking space. There was a bathroom next door and a microwave on one table. It was all a bachelor needed. It was all this bachelor could afford.

His days as a soldier were well behind him and now he was nothing but a weary fisherman, old in his boots. His sigh floated through the room, quieting the rain for a moment and Seifer turned onto his belly, turning his head to the side to stare into the dark. He knew the photo would be there, on the cabinet where he put it on the first day. It was a picture of himself and a woman with blonde hair and a scowl. It had been taken at the Garden Winter Festival one year. Trepe wasn't pleased to have her photo taken, but at least she had stood still for him. She was even looking at the camera. Seifer, for his part, was grinning like a Cheshire cat and had one hand on her hip.

The picture was special to him – as special as anything ever was to Seifer Almasy – and it had become a habit when he couldn't sleep, to stare at it until all his thoughts drifted away and he was left with nothing but memories of her. His almost lover. His hopeless dream. He enjoyed thinking of her and wondering how she was. Well he knew how she was, he saw her everyday working the taps in the bar on the docks. She was – to put it bluntly – fine. She looked happy enough and she was paid good money for a job that didn't require any bloodshed – well not on a good night anyway.

Seifer wasn't sure whether he should be happy for her or not. It was getting difficult – the older and more alone he became – to forgive her for being a success. Having spent so much time on his own, in a one bedroom flat with a full-time job of hard but unrewarding work and a steadily progressing smoking problem, seeing his old instructor – still so beautiful and still so _strong_ – just the way she used to be, was difficult to accept.

Truthfully, he wanted her to think about him the same way he thought about her. He wanted her to long for his touch the same way he longed for her voice. It didn't even matter if she was screaming at him or laughing with him, anything would be better than the feeling that she really didn't care about his existence. He was in that bar every night until closing time, watching her from across the room, and she hadn't so much as filled up his glass.

Flipping himself back onto his back, he closed his eyes again and slipped one hand down the front of his sleep-pants. It was a dirty thing to do. It was tainting her image in his mind. But her image in his mind and her name on his lips were the only things he had left.

* * *

Quistis sighed as she lay awake in her bed. This was becoming a problem; not sleeping. She tossed and turned and threw the pillows away, then retrieved them and kicked the covers off instead, every night. But it didn't matter how she arranged her bed, sleep never came any easier. She had even started taking extra shifts in the bar, simply because she disliked the notion of laying awake when she could be doing something else. Tonight was her night off – the manager had insisted – and she was not enjoying the freedom. Images of a certain blond headed ex-convict were jumping around in her mind, chasing away sleep and the sound of the rain.

It had been 9 months since she had handed in her resignation at Garden barely 8 months and a half since she had landed a job at the bar. Two days later, Seifer had started visiting. Not that she could really call it visiting. He just came in, ordered a beer or – after a particularly hard day – a whiskey, and went to sit in the corner and stare out the window. Or stare at her. She wasn't entire sure which he spent more time doing, staring at clouds or staring at her face. If she was honest, it was flattering. Well, much more so than the hordes of men who seemed to talk more to her breasts or her arse than anywhere else. _That_ was utterly repulsive.

Quistis sighed again and rolled over to face the wall. It was odd really, that she should feel this way. Rinoa would have said she was 'hung up' on Seifer. But Quistis was convinced that was not the case. Well at least she was until she had started dreaming about him. Among other things. It made her cringe just to think about it. This was Seifer Almasy she was thinking – and dreaming – about here. He would cut her down even faster and even more spectacularly than Squall. It was much _much_ better just to ignore him. Wasn't it?

If she was honest with herself – which she very seldom was – she was head over heels, star-crossed in love with him. Everything about him exuded strength and control, from the way he waltzed across the room, to the sight of him straining against the towropes in the docking yard. He was powerful enough for the both of them and she had no doubts that he could rise to the top of the dog pile if he put his mind to it. But therein lay the problem; Seifer didn't want to. She had seen it in his eyes in the bar one night as he watched her bus the tables. All the light had gone out. He was tired of fighting for his life and his place – a little bit like her – and all those that wait forever for ships that don't come in.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Wow... so much for the lack of plot bunnies 0.o, well I hope you enjoyed it, I got the prompt from LJ and I like to think I did it alright :)

Tell me what you think anyway and leave me a prompt if you like.

(Thankyou to Winterberrytrillium, your review made me smile :D)

-Okami


	9. All coming back to me now

**_A/N:_** It's different from my others, and quite short, just trying my somewhat questionable 'skills' :)

* * *

He was kissing her roughly, hard enough to bruise her lips and both his hands were fisted in her hair, the wet strands tangling round his fingers. She kissed him back just as hard, but her hands were busy on his belt. They needed each other quickly – it had been much too long and they had been so close to losing one another – there was no time to spend on foreplay; that could come later.

She ripped his belt from his trousers and pushed him back for more room. Four pairs of hands pulled her top over her head before she was backed up against the wall, Seifer's hands under her thighs pulling her off the floor, her legs settling round his hips. Four pairs of hands fiddled with his button and zipper.

The rain was pouring down outside, beating on the windows and the door – they hadn't got far from the entrance at all – the waves of water unrelenting in their assault of Balamb's harbour. The end of Seifer's jail time had been heralded with the heaven's worst storm of the season. The pair of them were drenched and freezing, but it hardly mattered.

Quistis gasped as Seifer filled her, her nails digging into his shoulders and hanging on for dear life as he moved. They had not been like this since before the war and the memories were old and dusty, pushed to the backs of their minds to be replaced by indifference. That was how it had to be – they were enemies. But here they were, fucking up against a wall in Quistis' new apartment, and the memories once forgotten were all coming back to her now.

"I'm sorry…" He muttered by her ear, forehead resting on her shoulder as he worked, one hand braced against the wall as the other worked between her legs. Quistis only screwed her eyes shut and held on tighter.

Release came quickly, much too quickly for Quistis, and when he allowed her legs to slip bonelessly to the floor, breathing hard and shaking, she still wasn't satisfied. It had been a good year since they'd been anything but cruel to each other, and by the end of his sentence, Quistis decided "I don't care."

* * *

**_A/N:_** There was no prompt for this as no one had given me any x( But I am trying to think things up for myself... *grumble grumble*

R&R (And leave a prompt!)

-Okami


	10. Beauty and the Beast

**_A/N:_** This has had to be one of my favourite ones to write and I really hope you guys like it as well. I thought it could be part of 'All the things she said', maybe as part of the after story, before Seifer is released fully and while they are still searching for a place to put him. I think maybe writing it in the middle of the night has helped alot as being half asleep my brain just seems to shut off and leaves the rest of the work to me fingers and the keys - kudos to them for coming up with this.

Did you know there has actually been a study that says teenagers work better in the night time than they do in the day? I guess that's why all my homework - completed in the early hours of the morning the night before the deadline - was so good... Hmm... we will never know xD

anyway, please read and enjoy :D

* * *

"This is different." Quistis said calmly, "This is not about you, or me, or anyone else who lived or died in the war. This is about afterwards, Seifer. This is about what happens to the world after the war."

"It will recover, seem to forgive itself and just be happy that it is all over." Seifer said, just as calmly, from the other side of the table. "The people will sleep well for once, happy and safe in the knowledge that everyone like me is locked up and peace will reign over the land for all eternity."

Quistis rolled her eyes and made to interrupt, but Seifer stopped her, raising one manacled hand and carrying on. "I'm not finished. After a little while the celebrations will die down and it will become apparent that no, not everyone like me is locked behind bars; no, peace will not reign for eternity; and no, no-one will be sleeping well or be in the least bit happy because the end of the war does _not_ mean the end of the bitterness, the ill-intent, the plague of 'ne'er-do-well's. And you and I know this Trepe, so cut the crap and tell me what you want from me."

Sighing, Quistis opened the folder she had on the table in front of her and pulled out the first sheet of paper. "This is a list of the places worst hit by the economic depression following the war." Seifer made a bored noise, but she ignored it and carried on talking. "As part of your parole, we would like it if you were to work to improve the living conditions of-"

"I don't do charity, Trepe."

"This isn't 'charity', _Almasy,_ it's called punishment." She hissed at him over the top of the sheet as he yawned and leant back in his chair. "As I was saying, I am putting it to you to improve the living conditions of those people. They are communities you have destroyed, Seifer, and as a result it is your responsibility to help rebuild them."

"Act as the human pack-mule and general man of all trades?"

"Almost."

"I can't see myself lasting more than a week in that environment, Trepe. Not because that's below my standards and not because I don't believe in pulling my weight or anything. But have you considered the reactions of the people _in_ those communities?"

Quistis raised an eyebrow and folded her hands on the table, assuming a holier-than-thou position as her glasses slipped a tiny bit down her nose. "Go on."

"They won't _want_ me in their communities." Seifer said, stretching his feet out under the table, his boot heels lightly touching the toes of her shoes. She pulled her feet back further and frowned at Seifer's smirk. "It's all very well punishing the criminal for what he has done, but there's no need to punish the people who live there. They've already suffered at my hands once before, why make them feel the brunt of it yet again? It would be going against the rules of compassion and – I hope – your morals."

"Why do you hope?" Quistis frowned again and crossed her ankles under her chair. This was the most talkative Seifer had been in any of their meetings about his parole and it's conditions, and while she was the only person authorised to have direct contact with him until a suitable place of station could be found, it had never compelled Seifer to converse with her any more than really needed be. This sudden torrent of - what she could grudgingly admit was – logic was not something she intended on interrupting.

"I would not like to think that you were unfeeling towards those people, Instructor." Seifer smiled at her, folding his arms over his chest in a relaxed fashion. "I have always considered you to be one of the more… Sensitive of the 'heroes' and I'll admit I would be disappointed to learn you were just as heartless as everyone says you are. I know you, Trepe," He said, leaning forwards and catching hold of her hands tightly. Quistis fought the urge to lean away or snatch her hands back, an admittedly hard urge to fight. "You've never given up on me and I think the rest of the world knows it too. You are not heartless, just made of stone."

"Thank you." She said sweetly, her gaze flickering between both his startling green eyes. "But flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm not trying to get anywhere." He said, picking her hands up and turning them over, palms up and pressed onto the cold metal of the table. She shivered. "I'm just trying to tell you that we are more alike than you might think. Consider it, Trepe. If you were in my position – accused of crimes you undoubtedly committed, tried and acquitted for those crimes on psychological grounds, but then still being punished by the society as a whole despite your acclaimed innocence – would you relish the idea of working in a community of people who would despise you from the second you set foot on their turf till the day they hacked your head from your shoulders? I don't think you would." He traced the lines on her palms, running his fingers all the way to the tips of her own in an absent minded way. "And if you were in the position of that community – struggled through a war, lost family members and friends, been lead out of the war and into poverty by a government inept of any skills required in running a country, then only to be handed the source of the problem and expected to enjoy his shoddy attempts at making life perfect again – would you welcome me in? I don't think you would. I think you would destroy me. Kill off the problem, once and for all. Do you agree?"

"I do not agree." She said firmly, tugging her hands from his grip and rubbing them together to get rid of that tingling sensation. "I would be happy that someone was there trying to make a difference."

"Bullshit, Trepe. Bullshit. You are only saying that because you cannot put yourself in that place. You and I are both incapable of thinking before we act. It is what got me into this mess and you into the war. It is what lost you your licence and what meant that I can talk to no one but you without turning to petty insults. You and I-"

"Shut up."

"_You and I,_ are more alike than the world would give us credit for. And if they only knew…" He sat back in his chair again and folded his arms over his chest, his green eyes burning into her own blue ones. "That the beauty was no different from the beast – they would be shitting themselves."

Quistis shook her head. She had nothing to say that would counter what he had said and for the first time since she had started working on this damned case, she allowed herself to slump in her chair. Across from her, Seifer remained silent and watched as she slowly came apart. Her throat became tight and tears began welling in her eyes. She could feel sobs building in her chest and the stone that had been resting in the pit of her stomach for the entirety of their time together began to churn. Tears began falling down her cheeks and suddenly, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She slumped across the table between them, burying her head in the circle of her arms and muffling her sobs as she cried.

It was several moments before she felt Seifer softly rubbing her back. "Don't cry Quisty," He whispered, his voice returning to the deep timber he had used to comfort her in their Garden days, before the Instructing had come between them. "It will all be alright in the end. You'll see how it will turn out. Please don't cry."

She shook her head in her arms and the sobs only seemed to get harder, more forceful. Seifer's touch became firmer and soon it was not just her back he was petting. He was running fingers through her hair as well, removing the clip and sifting through the strands of gold that fell across the table. "See what I mean about sensitivity? No one else will cry for me-"

"I'm not crying for you." She said, lifting her head a fraction and peering up at him out of bleary eyes. "I'm crying because I'm exhausted."

"You always did work yourself too hard." Seifer agreed, pulling both hands through her hair and playing with the tips. This was much friendlier than they had been in – how long ago was it now? – more than 3 years. She had missed this comfort. "Never knew when to stop did you."

"You never knew when to stop either. You always went too far."

"Another of our binding traits then."

"But I am not bad, like you."

Seifer laughed, throwing his head back and slamming his hands down on the edge of the table, swinging back on the legs of his chair. "The Golden Girl then are you, Instructor?"

She frowned and buried her face into her arms again, wiping the remaining tears on her sleeves. "Well," Seifer said calmly again, returning his hands to her hair, "If you are the angel, then I'll have to settle with being the devil in you I suppose."

"Could you live like that?" She questioned, muffled.

"I could live like that. That wouldn't be so bad. I've always thought I was the dark in your brightness anyway." She blushed into the confines of her arms. "I don't think it will ever change and I'd be lying if I said I ever wanted it to."

She made a noise of ascent, and pulled herself back from the table, feeling better for having a good cry. She adjusted her glasses and pushed them back up her nose, then turned her attention to the sheet she was lying on. Unfortunately her tears he made the words run and blur into each other and half the last paragraph seemed to be printed onto her right cheek. In short, the document was ruined.

"Oh well," Seifer shrugged, reaching forward and sliding the sheet towards him, crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it over his shoulder. "Maybe you can just spill coffee over the rest and we'll think of some other form of punishment."

Quistis raised an eyebrow and shook her head, closing her folder and dumping it on the floor by her chair leg. Sometimes he was just too incorrigible for her to bother trying to stop. But then again, sometimes it was his incorrigibility that stopped _her_ from doing things she would regret. Like sending him to his death at the hands of some enraged locals, or joining an evil sorceress and her promises of grandeur and love. So even though she hated to admit it – although admittedly she couldn't muster all _that_ much hatred for the notion – she might not have been so different from the devil inside herself, she supposed.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Well? What did you think? I've always thought that Seifer and Quistis were very alike but that none of that was really explored in the game. Obviously there were things like their appearences that matched and their witty and often sarcastic commenting, but I think it was more their personalities that caught me. I think it's why I like them so much.

Anyway, please tell me what you would like by way of style and genre and I will try to work to your tastes :)

I am currently working on a prompt for this folder, and any more are also welcomed :D

-Okami


	11. Test me, I dare you

End of Term Assessment – Cadet Seifer Almasy. Class – SeeD Candidates4, Inst. Trepe;

1. How can it be argued that GF use is beneficial in the long run, despite the obvious health issues incurred?  
_If your health is holding you back, then you weren't strong enough to fight in the war anyway. You should just pack your bags and leave the real soldiers to the GFs. In this way it can be said that GF use is beneficial in the long run by separating the men from the boys – as it were._

2. What are the moral issues concerning GF use?  
_Yawn yawn. Who gives a shit? Morals are for the people who need an excuse to stop. GF use is just another example. But for your benefit, some wimps were scared about the memories that GF users inevitably lose and were worried it meant they were losing their humanity._

3. Outline the key figures in the fight to make GF use a safe commodity in battle. What are their contributions?  
_Well, well, well Instructor, is this not simply a plea for your most intelligent and loyal students/Trepies to compose a sonnet or two dedicated to your dear self? Very well, I shall humour you and join the masses in their proclamation of love. "Oh Quisty, your shining golden hair has captured my attention and I cannot look away. Your eyes have struck me like a fork of lightning from heaven and I am electrified by their beauty! Each day I sit here, waiting for your sweet voice to grace me with a word, a soft word, a kind word. And yet I find your attentions drawn to another. I am unworthy of your gaze, but – I must apologise – when your eyes fall on me and your red lips part around a cry of my name, I surrender to you my heart, time and time again. I am lost in your heart… You don't happen to have a map do you?" I'm sorry Instructor, that sort of heartfelt crap has never really struck me… Although you wouldn't be able to tell with the nights I have spent alone in my bed, thinking of that supple whip of yours wrapped sensually around my-…_

4. Who was the scientist who is responsible for the discovery of the amnesiac tendencies exhibited by GF users?  
_Just a guess – Kadowaki?_

5. Why is it important that you understand the controversy surrounding GF use before you use them yourself?  
_This is one of those questions you're asking to evaluate how much of your lessons we slept through, isn't it? I think by the calibre of the previous answers you can already guess who slept through class and who didn't, and if you weren't shouting at me for 'tardiness' then it was for sleeping in class…  
We need to know about it so that we can decide for ourselves whether or not we'll use the GFs._

6. Do you consider GFs to be a commodity you will make use of?  
_No. I am awesome. That is all._

**C-**

**Seifer, this is a respectable grade, for a gorilla. You are smarter than this and as such I would expect better answers, although I will admit your handwriting has improved from the illegible scrawl it was at the beginning of the term, into something barely perceivable as chicken scratch – well done.**

**Trepe.**


	12. When it rains

_**A/N:**_ OK, so it's not the prompt I said I was working on, but I will post that soon (It's 'lemonade' and 'puzzles' BTW) So this one I got the idea for when listening to 'piece by piece' by Feeder, and thought i would write a little something about it, almost a "Quistis' career choice after the war" piece... But I don't think that really went to plan. I still like it and I hope you guys like it too :)

I will post my lame prompt reply some time later tonight I imagine... :/

Anyway, enjoy :D

* * *

She stepped up to the shelter and put down her umbrella, shaking the water out and dumping it on the ground by her feet. She pulled her coat closer around herself, turned the collar up against the wind and waited.

It was a windy and rainy day and she had been assigned to the shopping run for matron – the orphanage was nearly clean out of supplies and with a new children eating enough between them to feed an army every day, restocking was essential. The bus shelter was small and left much to be desired in the way of wind protection, but in the miles upon miles of wilderness it was better than the alternative; nothing at all.

It must have been 20 minutes until the bus arrived and she could get in out of the weather. The bus was the only one to come that day and would bring her back again sometime in the evening. There were only a few people taking the bus today and she liked that just fine, she had always been better off in her own company. Taking a seat towards the front, she relaxed against the old, worn tweed seating and looked out the window as they drove away.

Peace, however rampant in her day to day life, had never been known to preside over her shopping trips, unfortunately, and today's excursion promised to be no different. A familiar, grey figure lowered into the seat beside her and an arm lit around her shoulders, the gloved fingers gripping the edge of the cushion for security. "Good morning."

"Good morning." She replied, watching a droplet of water racing another to the edge of her window. It was a childish delight – she knew – and was one she had not often had the time to enjoy. Now though, her life seemed full of opportunities to regain what she lost from her childhood, like the man sitting beside her, she was not so old as to say her childhood was over. It was merely stunted.

"How have you been?"

"I've been worse, but I think I've been better too. Yourself?"

"The same as always."

She had never really been one for small talk, but more than he had. They fell into a silence and she contemplated his answer. With a glance from her eye she could see he was healthy enough, a little pale though not at all gaunt. The muscles he had built up over the years were still there – he obviously had a job that required physical labour, if nothing else – and he had his legs stretched out in front of him in his ever prominent arrogant stance. 'The same as always' had never really been an option with him before, he had always been changing and was hard to hold onto. Even his greatest demons lost their grip eventually.

"Where are you going to?" He asked at last, breaking the silence and turning to look at her. His brows were pulled down into a frown and he looked as though he was cross with her, although when she considered it, it may have just been the line on his forehead that made it seem that way. The green eyes bore into her even now, though they had spent years apart.

"Shopping in Dollet."

"What for?"

"Food. For Matron."

He turned and looked away again, leaving her to return her gaze to the window, steamed and bleak though it was.

Dollet hove into sight some hours later and he stood up, leading the way off the bus and out into the rain. It was then she realised she had left her umbrella on the floor of the bus shelter in Centra. She stood in the rain and watched as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, shielding it with one hand while he sought for a lighter. The thin plume of smoke curled up and was lost in the grey skies above their heads as they stood and got wet.

The cigarette irritated her. He had never smoked before, and now seeing his lips pursed around the accursed cancer-stick made her realise that he had changed more than he would have let on. He took it from his mouth and let out the smoke, glancing down at her bedraggled form.

"Good day, Instructor." He whispered, before tucking the fag into one corner of her mouth and disappearing into the rain.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Anyone notice I didn't use their names at all? xD Just thought I'd point that out ;)

So, what did you think? Also, more prompts because I've finished the other one now, it will be posted later :)

-Okami


	13. My Wereld with afrikaans

_**A/N:**_ Ok, there is some Afrikaans in this and I am using that as Old Galbadian. I dunno, Seifer and Quistis just kind of struck me as being from Galbadia... they don't have the same 'softness' as those from balamb or timber... so yeah, sorry if you don't like that, but that's the way i've always seen them. Afrikaans is also something I associated with Galbadia, not because the countries look anything alike, but because I imagine that if we could here galbadian like old centran, then it would have that rough sway to it... hmm, maybe I'm just going mad... xD

Well anyway, the translations for the words i use are at the bottom.

Enjoy :D

* * *

My Wereld.

"You know nothing about my world." He said at last, stopping her pacing and her fingers from riffling through the sheets. She looked at him over her glasses in a way that said she was waiting and that he shouldn't dare try and prove her wrong. At least that was what he knew she wanted him to see in that look. However, he had always been far too perceptive for his own good and if she had made one mistake in all her years, it was allowing him to know her so well. What he saw for himself when she furrowed her brow, one slightly raised, and fixed her cornflower blue eyes on him in an unblinking stare, was a bid for his co-operation. It was a show of how little control she had over the situation that she had been forced to resort to eyebrow movements and glaring. With this in mind, he continued.

"You know nothing about my world or my mind or anything that even exists outside your precious little classroom, any more than I know about making Cid happy." She rolled her eyes at this and went back to leafing through the pages in her hand – his essay and the reason he had been forced to 'stay behind'. It was another show of inferiority, looking like she didn't care when really she was hanging on his every word, as she so often did. "Really, Instructor, your narrow view on the world does not allow you to criticise mine."

"I can criticise wherever I see fit, Cadet."

"But you cannot pretend to understand."

She did as he knew she would, turning to face him properly, placing the paper on the desk in front of herself and saying:

"Then help me understand."

It was a flat invitation and she was clearly not intending on him jumping to the task, but he did so anyway, standing up and kicking his chair over backwards. "My world is a lonely one, Instructor!" He said loudly with his arms spread wide, a grin beginning to spread as she took a step back from the desk. "It is a world of heroes and great reformations that I will never be a part of. My world is laced with contempt, in love with another and I cannot change the sun's gaze."

She raised an eyebrow. Admittedly it was beginning to sound a little like poetry, but given what he'd written in his essay he didn't think he was doing too badly straight off the bat. "Do you ever feel like you're not good enough to live in your own skin, Instructor?"

She shook her head and made to take the papers back off the desk, her signal that this conversation was over and they should get back to her lecture on his behaviour in class. But he wasn't going to let this chance to tease her slip away, who knows when it might come around again. "Ever wanted a knight in shining armour to take away your pain? A warm body to caress the stiffness from your shoulders? Make you _fit_ inside your skin?"

She shook her head again and glared at him, her lips pursed in what was actually quite a cute pout, now he thought about it. "I do." He whispered. He came around the desk as she backed away, into the board, the look of annoyance gone from her face to be replaced with one of wariness as he advanced on her. He bracketed her head with his arms, his shadow looming over her and they locked eyes. "I want to fit inside my skin so much, I'll even rub _you_ up the wrong way."

"Stop it."

"Make me. Stop me. Turn me out. Turn me away. Pretend you don't care. Pretend you never feel this way."

She pushed her hands against his chest, tried to slip under his arms, but he was immovable and much quicker than she was. "Do you still criticize me, Instructor? When you long for something you _cannot_ have, just like I do?"

"I can criticize you however much I like, Almasy." She spat, claws all out and stuck in his biceps. "Let me go."

"Nee."

"Please."

"Nee."

"Seifer."

He shook his head, taking a step forward, his hands exchanging spots on the wall for her neck, thumbs just brushing her jaw line. He could smell her perfume he was so close to her and if he dipped his head a little further he could see the cross resting on her collarbone below the lip of her collar. Her eyes took on a nervous look and he had to hold back a laugh.

"Jy is my wereld, Instructor. Ek sukkel ook soms om jou te vertrou, maar… Steed… Ek behoort aan jou."

She shook her head and shut her eyes as he dipped his lips to her ear. Had she left her eyes open, the smirk would have been blindingly obvious, but as it was her blush was burning his cheek when he whispered:

"Asseblief, ek wil jou hart, jou vergifnes en jou lief. Ek moe lewe in jou hart."

She gasped and struggled again, to which he only laughed and smiled down at her. She was bright pink and looked about ready to blow a gasket.

"Seifer Almasy," She breathed, grabbing hold of his hands and prying them from herself, "If you ever do that again I'll-"

"Kiss me? Kill me?" He chuckled, grinning wolfishly as she scowled, her cheeks still flushed pink. "You seem a little out of sorts, Instructor. Maybe you should take a lie down?"

Seeming to realise just how open she was being with her emotions, she pushed past him and stuck her nose in the air. "You are dismissed, Cadet."

"Why, thank you, Instructor." He said dramatically, throwing his arms round her and crushing her in a hug. Then, before she could change her mind, he darted around the desk, grabbed his bag and jogged out the door.

Still scowling, she picked his essay – 'My Wereld' - off her desk and leafed through it once more. Honestly, there was no end to how embarrassed and annoyed he could make her, and the fact that they seemed to be the only ones in the entire _Garden_ who understood and spoke fluent Old Galbadian made it that much worse. If he was not one of her students she would have beaten him round the head with his own sword by now – and that wasn't to say she hadn't done it before in the past – but as it was she was forced to endure his teasing – for that was what she knew it to be – everyday.

Something written on the back page caught her eye and she paused, squinting to read the tiny writing she had missed when she first marked his paper. It was hard to make out and his handwriting seemed even worse in smaller print, but she could just about make out the words "Genade, asseblief?"

She shook her head again and tossed the essay into her bottom draw. "Ek verstaan nie genade nie."

* * *

Translations:

My Wereld - My world.  
Jy is my wereld - you are my world.  
Ek sukkel ook soms om jou te vertrou, maar - I struggle sometimes to trust you, but...  
Steed - still...  
Ek behoort aan jou - I belong to you.  
Asseblief, ek wil jou hart, jou vergifnes, en jou lief - Please, I want your heart, your forgiveness and your love.  
Ek moe lewe in jou hart - I'm tired of living in your heart.  
Genade, asseblief - Mercy, please?  
Ek verstaan nie genade nie - I don't understand mercy.

_**A/N:**_ Righty ho... I hope that didn't cause too much trouble for anyone... I will be including afrikaans into quite a few of my drabbles now and if you don't want that to happen you're going to have to tell me before I get carried away... Who knows, you might actually be able to learn afrikaans from this! (LOL!)

So yeah, prompts are always welcome, otherwise you'll end up with random stuff like this...

-Okami


	14. These Days Gone By with afrikaans

**These Days Gone By.**

Edea paused, her hands stilling in the soapy water as she watched her children in the garden. Seifer was speaking to Quistis again, throwing leaves and twigs at her when she ignored him – as she often did – and had she not been up to her elbows in soapy water, washing their lunch bowls and other such crockery, she would have walked outside to stop them. But it really wasn't all that urgent, currently Quistis was sat cross legged on the dirt, staring at him with big blue eyes as he talked. Their relationship had always been odd. Well not odd, just different. Edea could recognise the Galbadian they would spout on occasions and it was at these times that she really wished she had bothered to learn it – their fights were often vicious and if Seifer had not left Quistis crying, then she left him with a foul temper from one short, quick snipe of Galbadian.

She continued to glance at them as she washed up. A few of the dishes went on the windowsill and she opened the window to air them, the conversation outside carried on as she washed.

"Dit is my hart. En wat ek dink."

"jy verkeerd"

"Jy sukkel soms om my te vertrou. Maar dit is nie verkeerd nie. Ek is nooit verkeerd nie."

"Is."

"Nooit."

"Jy is verkeerd want jy is n klein seuntjie. Jy weet niks."

Seifer scowled and stuck out a finger and pointed it at Quistis, who merely looked at the end of it as it shook with sudden rage. "En jy is n klein meisie! Jy is nooit korrekte nie! Jy nie behoort hier nie!"

"Waarom?" Quistis asked, a touch of ice entering her voice and, inside the kitchen, Edea's eyebrows twitched a little closer together. 'waarom' was a word she understood - 'Why?' – and it passed between the two children on a regular basis. While she considered herself to be above asking Quistis to teach the language to her, the odd word needed to be understood and therefore, she felt she had to ask for translations occasionally.

"Jy maak foute, soos Squall. Jou is lief vir hom. Jou ma wou nie wil he jy. Soos sy ma nie wil hom nie."

"Don't you dare." The tone was one of boredom and had Edea not known Quistis as well as she did, she would have assumed that everything was alright, the situation was diffused when she walked away, turned her back away from the boy and exited through the small gate in the wall that lead to the beach. However, walking away when he was not finished speaking was a punishment to Seifer and Quistis' punishments were always met with fierce resistance.

"It's true! If it wasn't you wouldn't be here! None of us would!"

"Don't you dare compare me to him, Almasy." Quistis hissed as Seifer's hands balled into fists by his sides. Edea sighed, this seemed to happen every day. She dumped her drying-up cloth on the side and wiped her hands on her apron, walking to the back door and preparing herself to drag two screaming children away from each other by sheer will and determination. But by the time she had rounded the door frame, she found the both of them lying in her best flowerbed, Quistis' lips barely touching Seifer's as she told the wide-eyed little boy:

"Of ek sal neem jou hart en ek sal jou seergemaak het. Heirdie wonde sal nie genees nie."

* * *

Those days seemed so long ago now, Edea thought as she watched the same two people digging the weeds in her flowerbed. The war had meant her lighthouse went ungroomed for quite a long time, and the forest of weeds and overgrown rose bushes she had returned to was far too much for her to handle by herself. Seifer and Quistis had offered to help and she had willing accepted.

The war had been tough on the pair of them, Seifer for the things she had forced him to do, and Quistis for caring too much about the little boy she could barely remember and struggling with the concept of having companions. Now though, her two most favourite children were peacefully digging up the weeds and replanting fresh bulbs in the newly turned earth. Edea hummed quietly to herself as she plunged her hands into the hot soapy water and began washing up the lunch dishes, keeping half an eye on the pair outside.

It was a shame really, that things had worked out for them the way they did – although admittedly things could have turned out a lot worse; they were all alive for example – and had she known back then that things would go so wrong, she would never have let any of her children go. Far from letting Quistis be adopted by the Cummings and sending Seifer off to an military academy, she would have locked them all up in the lighthouse and mothered them until they were grey and old. But she didn't really get a choice about that now.

As she understood it – and she liked to think she understood it very well – Quistis had carried out her promise to Seifer almost exactly to the letter. "I will take your heart and I will hurt you. These wounds will not heal." Edea had taken the time to look up the translation, and had punished the pair roundly for making such horrible predictions and threats, but it seemed that in forgetting all her past, Quistis had also forgotten the telling off and even the threat itself. Falling for Squall, ensnaring Seifer, ignoring him and ripping at his feelings with such ferocity that it forced him into Ultimecia's company seemed completely unintentional. But for Seifer – and Edea knew because she had searched his mind far more thoroughly as a sorceress than she had ever bothered to search her own – this was tantamount to betrayal. Quistis had always been one of his most trusted people, as a child. And the abrupt change in relationship to stranger and instructor had taken some getting used to. He still did not like the way she was so oblivious, for someone so smart and the enormity of this insult was largely lost on Quistis. Edea however, understood exactly how he felt.

She set a couple of the dishes on the window sill and opened it a few inches to help them dry. The conversation outside drifted in.

"Ouch!"

"Don't be such a cry baby."

"It's a _huge_ thorn! You'd be in tears by now anyway."

"Let me see then, wuss."

"Wuss yourself! And no, you'll hurt it."

"Don't be stupid, let me see or stop complaining."

"I can fish it out myself."

"With those muddy fingers? You'll get an infection, it'll go septic and drop off."

"Don't be daft, it's a thorn not a bomb."

"Fine then, live with the stump." There was a brief pause and then, "What's the matter? Can't get it?"

"I don't have the nails."

"Let me see." There was a longer pause, accompanied by some hisses of discomfort and "Stop squirming."

"I don't squirm."

"Well you're doing it now."

"You're pinching my – Ow!"

"Here it is, nothing to be such a pansy about."

"Pansy yourself! Damn broad, I'm the one doing the _hard_ work, you're just sticking seeds in the mud."

"You're not sweating yet, it can't be all that hard."

"You'd love to see that wouldn't you, slave driver."

"If you think anyone wants to see your sweaty glistening hide then you've got another thing coming. Personally I think personal hygiene is an important commodity in life and you, have never been known for your personal hygiene."

"There are better, more important things to be known for, Trepe. And I'll have you know I shower every month-"

"-Whether you need it or not. Yes, I know."

"The point is," He paused from pulling an overgrown rose from the wall and turned to chuck one of the branches at her. It tangled in her hair and she shot him a foul look. "I am not well known for my personal hygiene because I don't go overboard. I shower every day, brush my teeth and get the occasional haircut. Nothing over the top, nothing under par with the rest of society. If you're known for your hygiene, the chances are it's because you're a nutter or have OCD."

"Are you saying I have OCD?" Quistis questioned him, stabbing a bulb forcefully into the ground.

"Of course you would choose to ignore the part about being the nutter." Seifer sighed and went back to his assault on the rose bush.

"Am I a nutter?" Quistis' tone turned a shade darker and Edea looked up from her dish drying to keep a closer eye on the situation. For some reason, she didn't really want to end up pulling the two a part now, they had grown so big and she wasn't getting any younger.

"No more than I am." He grunted, giving the bush a savage tug and coming away with half the thing buried in his palms. He yelped as he stumbled backwards and trod on the rake, the handle coming up and smashing him over the back of the head. There were a few beats of silence as he crumpled on the ground, then Quistis began howling with laughter. Edea allowed herself a few hushed chuckles, then returned her attention to the dishes, satisfied that the situation had been sufficiently diffused.

"Oiy, stop laughing, that hurt." Seifer grumbled, rolling onto his stomach and glaring daggers at the rake. It lay there innocently, perfectly still as though nothing had happened. Behind him, Quistis laughed harder.

"You are definitely the nutter around here!" She said between giggles and the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Seifer's lips. He hadn't smiled in so many years, the sight might have stopped Quistis' laughter in an instant. But as it was she didn't see it. Edea did though, and it reminded her more thoroughly of the days gone by, than any of the present day's events so far. It was a good sight.

"Ek dink, my wereld is opstandig te wees." Seifer said calmly, sitting up and brushing bits of soil and rose bush from his hair and clothes. "Soos my hart want jou is hier."

Quistis' laughter died down to the occasional hiccup as she reached for a different bag of bulbs. "Waarom?"

"Ek is haat vir jou and ek is lief vir jou. Wan ek is met jou, my hart is nie oop nie. Oor en oor, ek is kla, maar dit is moeilik om te vergewe en vergeet. Jy is korrekte, heirdie wonde sal nooit genees nie."

It was very quiet between the two and when Edea looked back up, Quistis had moved over to Seifer and had her arms wrapped round him. He was gingerly returning the gesture, one arm slung around the canvas waist of her coat while the other propped them both up.

"Ek weet… maar, al jou lee gevoel sal verdwyn. Dit sal weer goed. My net vertrou en ek sal nie weer seergemaak jou nie."

"Waarom?"

"Want…"

Edea frowned slightly, 'waarom' seemed to be something they had never grown out of and it passed between the two like lovers exchanged kisses. It was_ almost_ amusing to watch, but unfortunately it was much too infuriating for that – if only she understood what they were saying!

"Ek behoort aan jou, Quistis. Praat aan my."

"Ek sal nie weer seergemaak jou nie want ek is lief vir jou en ek is hier vir jou, en ek sal red jou aanhoudend want sonder my, jou is moedelose."

"Hmm… Dankie. Net skoonheid."

"Ja."

"Can we stop being sincere now? It's starting to scare me."

"Of course."

Edea shook her head in bemusement. It was moments like this that made her wish she could understand what they were saying to each other. One minute they could seem really affectionate and calm in each other's company, and then the atmosphere was spoiled entirely by a single comment – invariably Seifer, which lead her to believe that Quistis was not so oblivious as she might have seemed.

Still, there seemed to be no harm done this time round and the pair of them were back to pulling weeds and planting bulbs, like the good little children she always _wished_ they would be. With any luck, they could continue to be peaceful and not start any wars until after dinner. But then again, lady luck never seemed to pay attention to her little family.

* * *

_**A/N;**_ Now then! Translations! I must say I apologise to any Afrikaans speakers if I have got this totally wrong, my vocabulary is not the problem when it comes to Afrikaans, it's the sentence structures xD So, here we go:

"Dit is my hart en wat ek dink." – This is my heart and what I think.

"Jy verkeerd." – You're wrong.

"Jy sukkel soms om my te vertrou. Maar dit is nie verkeerd nie. Ek is nooit verkeerd nie." – You struggle sometimes to trust me. But this is not wrong. I am never wrong.

"Is" – Are.

"Nooit." – Never.

"Jy is verkeerd want jy is n klein seuntjie. Jy weet niks." – You're wrong because you're a little boy. You know nothing.

"En jy is n klein meisie! Jy is nooit korrekte nie! Jy nie behoort hier nie!" – And you're a little girl! You're never correct! You don't belong here!

"Waarom?" – Why?

"Jy maak foute, soos Squall. Jou is lief vir hom. Jou ma wou nie wil he jy. Soos sy ma nie wil hom nie." – You make mistakes, like Squall. You love him. Your mother wouldn't want you. As his mother didn't want him.

"Of ek sal neem jou hart en ek sal jou seergemaak het. Heirdie wonde sal nie genees nie." – Or I will take your heart and I will hurt you. These wounds will not heal.

"Ek dink, my wereld is opstandig te wees." – I think my world is being rebellious.

"Soos my hart want jou is hier." – Like my heart because you're here.

"Waarom?" – Why?

"Ek is haat vir jou and ek is lief vir jou. Wan ek is met jou, my hart is nie oop nie. Oor en oor, ek is kla, maar dit is moeilik om te vergewe en vergeet. Jy is korrekte, heirdie wonde sal nooit genees nie." – I hate you and I love you. When I am with you, my heart is closed. Over and over, I complain, but it's hard to forgive and forget. You were right, these wounds will never heal.

"Ek weet… maar, al jou lee gevoel sal verdwyn. Dit sal weer goed. My net vertrou en ek sal nie weer seergemaak jou nie." – I know… but, all your empty feelings will disappear. It will be alright again. Just trust me and I won't hurt you again.

"Waarom?" – Why?

"Want…" – Because…

"Ek behoort aan jou, Quistis. Praat aan my." – I belong to you Quistis. Speak to me.

"Ek sal nie weer seergemaak jou nie want ek is lief vir jou en ek is hier vir jou, en ek sal red jou aanhoudend want sonder my, jou is moedelose." – I won't hurt you again because I love you and I'm here for you and I'll continually save you because without me, you're hopeless.

"Hmm… Dankie. Net skoonheid." – Hmm… Thanks. Just beautiful.

"Ja." – Yes.

Don't forget, I am not a native speaker so if this is wrong, I apologise and I will try harder to get it right :'(  
I hope you enjoyed it, it came to me in a dream – no seriously – and I thought I might as well write it down before I forgot. And no I don't generally tend to sleep in the middle of the day (the time now is 20:19 in Scotland) and the dream I had was last night…

I noticed I seemed to have pissed off quite a few of of my reviewers and you've all buggered off. I will write for you a masterpiece as a sorry and I promise it will include no Afrikaans or anything weird like that.

Yours fraternally (I dunno, I just picked it up somewhere and it sounded cool xD),

-Okami


	15. Punch and Thrust

_**A/N:**_ To prove I'm not dead.

* * *

Punch and Thrust.

Stretch, the full length of his arm, muscles straining as metal boss meets springy cartilage. The momentary bending of the hooked protrusion, the final stress of the flexible tissue before the hairline split followed up by the snap and the burst of blood vessels. Red jets of sticky warmth gush through bristled passages and splatter across the finely polished metal boss. Enamel and steel meet, the latter chipping the former, pushing against the roots until they snap, shatter and little ivory pegs become slanted in their cavern. Blood spurts through the new holes and adds to the mess on the boss, saliva and mucus flying from their respective tubes and mingling with the gore. A push to alter the angle of the mandibles and then the muscles begin to retract again as his other arm begins its work.

Stretch again, repeating the motions of the first arm, only a lower set at the shoulder, an upwards curve. Soft pink parts around hard grey, swallowing it up as though they had never been apart. Hard tip now rendered invisible meets obstruction, but is carried through by the momentum of the arm. Like an underdone potato, the bone band obstruction is carved through and the hard tip continues on its path of vivisection. Organ matter parts around the sharp sides of the metal and the handle is given a sharp twist, dislodging the bone bands. They spring inwards, sliding over each other as the metal sides gouge a circle from the soft fatty tissue they're buried in.

The extraction of the sword is harder work, Seifer loses his grip and the blood that sprays out of the hole makes the handle slippery and the falling man takes the weapon with him, wedged between his ribs. Another sword comes to hand quickly though, ripped from the carcass of another dying man with a stamp of his foot and Seifer continues his work, a punch with his shield, a thrust with his sword. The commander is shouting orders from his horse some meters behind the line of cowardly infantry-men, dark patches of mingled blood and piss making circles around their feet as the waves of the enemy keep coming. He's been here before and done this before, but like then, now all Seifer can think is punch, and thrust.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Bit wierd I know, but hey, if I told you that at the beginning, who was going to read it huh?


End file.
